


Goblinskin

by DemonSaya



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 68,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSaya/pseuds/DemonSaya
Summary: Sarah gets an "invitation" back to the Underground that she literally can't refuse. A guest of the Shadow Court, she has to find a way to escape from her captors before she's forced into an unwanted marriage to her kidnapper.
Relationships: Jareth & Sarah Williams, Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 129
Kudos: 158





	1. The Start of A Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is loosely based on Perrault's "Donkeyskin". I'm putting this note at the beginning of the story because this will be a dark tale, with some things that I don't typically write. If you aren't interested in a slow burn style romance, with a lot of pain and suffering right out the gate, this story isn't for you. Thank you for your time, and I hope you like it.

Sarah Williams opened bleary eyes and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, half glaring at the textured ceiling. Her alarm continued to blare next to her head until she finally flailed an arm and hit the silencer on it with pinpoint accuracy. She still refused to move, at first, eyes up and a tight frown pulling her lips taut. A glance towards the clock confirmed that she hadn’t gotten enough sleep to feel human at six thirty in the morning. 

Blinking several times, she lifted a hand and scrubbed the sleep sand from her eyes. For several long moments, she considered rolling over and pulling the blankets up over her head and going back to sleep. Then, she remembered why she couldn’t do that and a sigh escaped her.

Rolling out of her bed, she eyed the clock with annoyance before she looked at her calendar and heaved another sigh. She pulled off her pajamas and pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, brushing her hair as she headed to her brother’s bedroom and knocked on the door before she pushed it open. 

She found him awake and sitting on his bed, already dressed. Toby was clinging to Lancealot like the bear was a lifeline for him, like it would protect him from everything that could go wrong. When she leaned against the doorframe, he looked up at her, his nerves visible in his young face.

“How long have you been up, kiddo,” she asked, giving him a smile as she came and sat next to him on the edge of his bed. He leaned against her shoulder, biting his lower lip for a moment and she rubbed small circles on his back, waiting for him to answer.

“Since dad and mom were getting ready for work,” he admitted after a long moment. “I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“First day jitters?”

He looked up at her and she saw how hard he was biting his lower lip. He nodded, and took a deep breath, his face too serious. “What if -”

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, giving him a hard squeeze as she hugged him against her side. “I told you, already. I’ll be there as long as you need me there, today. I promise. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

She watched as he relaxed and closed his eyes. For a moment, she thought Toby would start to cry. Then, he looked up at her again and there was a familiar stubborn set to his jaw. It reminded her of herself. “Okay.”

“Come on, let’s grab breakfast on the way in,” she offered, clapping him on the shoulder and she saw his eyes brighten at the suggestion.

“Pancakes?”

Her lips curved into a smile and she got to her feet, tapping her chin for a moment, pretending to consider the suggestion. “I think we might be able to manage pancakes. Give me about five minutes, and be waiting for me by the door with your backpack and shoes on, okay?”

He gave her a smile that was like the sun and tore off the bed and out of the room to do as she’d said. She hurried back to her own room and threw on a sweater, tossing her hair up into a ponytail before shoving her feet into her sneakers and heading downstairs. Toby was right where she had told him to be, ready to go and holding her purse, his blue eyes shining.

She gave him a warm smile and opened the door, watching him bounce down the porch steps towards her car as she locked up as they left the house. The key stuck in the lock as she tried to pull it free, and she frowned, giving it a wiggle. It seemed to be stubborn and she sighed to herself. It must be the weather cooling off, she thought, and headed down to the car after him.

She made a mental note to let her father know that it needed to be hit with some WD-40 or something to keep it from sticking, and climbed into the driver’s seat, buckling up. Her brother had climbed into the passenger seat and buckled himself in, as well. She put the car key in the ignition and cranked it, and the car just sputtered for a moment. She tried it again and noted that her engine seemed reluctant to turn over. Glaring at her dashboard, she felt her temper flare.

Don’t do this today, she thought at her car, lips pulling into a frown. Today was too important for an old car to fuck it up for her little brother. She gave it another turn and the car cranked to life, and she relaxed, heaving a sigh as she backed out of the driveway.

Today was Toby’s first day of Kindergarten and her almost six year old brother had been alternating between being terrified and excited for the last month. Two days ago, he’d come to her, admitting he was afraid the other students wouldn’t like him, that they’d tease him and that he was afraid to go. So she’d ensured she wouldn’t have to go to school or work, herself. Karen and her father had to work, but she could get away with being with him, today.

It was important for him. So she wouldn’t tolerate the failures of mechanical or technological nature. She wanted it to go well for him because she could still remember when her father had moved them out to this town, away from the city after his divorce from her mother, Linda. She was glad she could be here for him for this.

She pulled into the parking lot of a family diner near his school and they split a plate of pancakes while she drank her first cup of coffee for the day. She did her best to keep his mind off of the parts that scared him. Instead, she reminded him again that it was everyone else’s first day, too, and they were probably just as nervous to meet him as he was to meet them. That seemed to cheer him, a bit, and by the time they left the restaurant, he was more confident.

Still, before they got out of her car at the school she noted he was still clinging to the stuffed bear and gave him a smile. “Do you want to keep an eye on him for me today? Or should I take him home with me?”

He seemed to jole, as if he’d forgotten that he had the bear with him. He looked down at it for a long moment, his small fingers stroking the fake fur. Then, he pushed it towards her, looking up at her. “Take him home for me? I don’t want -”

He didn’t want the other students to tease him for bringing a teddy bear to class as a crutch, she thought, a sadder smile curving her lips. Karen and Robert had wanted to take the bear away from him ages ago, but she reminded them the bear was hers. She wanted it to be his choice to let it go, especially today.

So she nodded, and tucked the bear into her purse, and climbed out of the car, walking with him to his class, holding onto his hand as they crossed the street. They waited by the side door for the teacher to let them into the building. The teacher let the students in and interacted with the students with an energy that Sarah was envious of. Even with the coffee she’d had a short time ago, she felt exhausted.

Still, she stayed with the parents who were lingering, keeping back and out of his way, but within Toby’s line of sight. She watched as he opened up and started to relax into the day, and about an hour in, she headed towards him, crouching at his side and putting herself at his level. She tapped his shoulder and smiled at him when he turned towards her, beaming.

“Do you need me to stay longer? I was going to go grab some coffee if you don’t.”

He thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head, grinning at her. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, today.”

“Then I’ll pick you up from the bus stop, this afternoon,” she offered and at his excited smile, she squeezed his shoulder, rather than ruffling his hair as she might have. “I’ll talk to you later, Toby. Have fun.” Then, she got to her feet and headed towards the door, glancing back as she left. She still felt anxious about leaving him there, but she shook the feeling off.

Heading back to her car and she sat in the parking lot for a long moment, trying to steady herself. Her brother wasn’t a baby anymore, she thought, and felt tears well in her eyes a bit, but she couldn’t be certain why she felt both joy and pride in that. She’d changed a lot since he’d been a baby. When he was born, she’d thought him a threat. She’d been the only child for so long, and she acted like a brat whenever her father expected her to behave like an older sister.

She’d likened herself to a slave, instead, writing herself into a Cinderella fantasy until one night she’d had a nightmare that had changed her. She’d woken and torn off to her brother’s room, finding him asleep, peaceful in his crib and that was the night she’d given Lancealot to him. After that point, she’d done her best to set aside her selfishness and bratty behavior. Even though she’d never grown particularly close to her stepmother, they at least didn’t grate against one another as they had the first two years of her father’s second marriage.

Now, she was on the fast track to graduating from Law School, and working at an internship that while unpaid, would slide her directly into a junior partner position at that firm. While she didn’t date, that had more to do with her having little if any time than a complete lack of interest. Most guys didn’t think she should be so career minded, but she had already succumbed to selfishness when she was younger, and she didn’t want to be irresponsible and start a family before she was stable.

She was a good example of what that could do to a kid.

The chill outside seeped into her and she shook herself, noting she’d lost almost a half-hour, just sitting there thinking about times past. That wasn’t a habit she liked to admit she still had. She’d mentioned it to a doctor, once, and they had wanted to send her to a therapist, saying something about dissociative episodes. After that, she’d shut that sort of talk down, keeping it to herself.

Cranking her car engine, she backed out of the parking space and went in search of another cup of coffee.

She found it at a McDonald’s drive thru. The line there was ridiculous, but she needed the boost, so she waited. Really, she wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of the morning. She knew too well how that would destroy her sleep schedule, so she decided to just main line coffee for today, and crash early tonight.

Rubbing her neck, she groaned, noting that she had several knots in her shoulders. She must not be sleeping well at night. She brushed the idle thought off as she waited to place her order. Once she’d gotten her precious fuel, she headed home, sipping her coffee black and wincing at the taste of it. It was so hot, it scalded her taste buds, but she figured that was probably better than tasting it.

About a block away from her family home, the sky opened up and it started pouring rain. Something about the rain gelt unsettling and familiar, the way the wall of rainfall moved towards her reminded her of a night almost five years ago. She grumbled in frustration, trying to ignore that faint prick of discomfort in her heart.

When she reached her turn, she slowed, turning on her signal to indicate a left-hand turn. The scream of tires caught her attention and she looked into her rear view mirror, seeing blinding headlights in it, just seconds before a car moving at speed slammed into the rear end of her car, pushing her into the intersection. She swore with heartfelt precision, and took a moment to be glad she was wearing her seatbelt. Her neck ached, but she was still in the car, and in one piece. Glancing towards the driver's side mirror, more headlights blinded her and blood drained from her face as she realized a massive truck was heading her way.

Oh, shit.

She slammed on the accelerator, trying to get out of its way so it wouldn’t slam right into the driver’s side door. Instead, the truck clipped her rear quarter panel, sending her car into a spin. She held onto the wheel, squeezing her eyes tight, and letting off the accelerator. As her car straightened out, she heard a car horn and another car slammed into her passenger side door, spinning her, again.

She ground her teeth, just holding on, hoping that this would all stop soon. It did, when her car slammed into a light pole, and the world around her went dark. She wasn’t certain how long she’d blacked out, but when she came to, she was careful to not move too much.

Her neck hurt, and one of her arms was screaming in pain. Her head was throbbing, and her face was wet with something. She forced her head up, though it objected, and looked out the windshield of her car.

She was shaking like a leaf, she noted, and she lifted her arm that didn’t feel injured, probing her head with care. When she brought it away, she found blood on her hand. A part of her wanted to get out of the car, but at the same time, something in her head told her to stay inside of it. That as bad as this was, if she had a broken back, trying to move would be worse.

Looking out her rain streaked window, she saw figures gathered around her car. One of them was dark, standing back from the others and looking at her car. She felt her brow crease with her confusion and her hands shook a little harder. When someone pulled her car door open, rain pelted her side, cold and jarring and she looked over. She still felt like she could feel that someone was looking directly at her. Something about that figure in the rain terrified her, but she wasn’t certain what that was.

It reminded her, again, of a night almost five years ago. That terrifying nightmare she’d had, where she’d wished her baby brother away. She’d won the day in her dream, but it had still frightened her. To this day, thunderstorms, barn owls, and dark figures frightened her.

She heard voices calling for someone to call for emergency services, but something about them sounded quiet and far away.

That dark figure, however, seemed to grow closer and more clear. As if they were real, and everything else around her was just a dream. As they moved closer towards her, she could see that the smile on the figure’s face was dark and sinister and terrifying. They weren’t the king she still remembered from her dream. She could tell that, even though they were blurred from the rain streaking her broken windshield.

Darkness swelled around her, and she fought it, even as it fought to pull her under. Something told her that if she gave in and let herself fall into it, she wouldn’t be able to escape it easily.

No, she thought, shaking harder. She had to pick up her brother after school, today. Not today. Please, no.

After a moment, she noted she couldn’t feel her body, any more. As if the physical pains and aches had eased and the accident had never happened. She didn’t even feel her exhaustion. Startled, she opened her eyes and found that she wasn’t even sitting in her car, anymore. She was standing on the street, and even though she was in the rain, she couldn’t feel it pelting her skin.

She shook her head in denial, turning towards her car and seeing red and white flashing lights on approach. Her body was still sitting in the car, head slumped forward, eyes closed. When she turned again, that dark figure was standing right in front of her. She stumbled back several steps, shaking her head in denial again.

“No, that was a dream,” she whispered, shaking her head harder. “A nightmare. Just a bad dream. That time wasn’t real.” She stumbled back several more steps, trying to put space between herself and the figure before her. “It wasn’t real!”

The last words left her in a scream that didn’t draw the attention of the people nearby, didn’t seem to echo in the area at all. The figure didn’t speak, just stepped towards her again and grabbed her arm tight in one hand. She stared up at him, noting that she could feel the pain of his grip, even though she could feel nothing else. Now that they were closer, she could see that the figure was, in fact, a man. He was a good head taller than her, too. Handsome, but in a terrifying way. His hair was dark and soaked from the rain, his smile wide and too filled with teeth.

He inclined his head and gave a laugh that sent chills up her spine. It was the sound of brittle cruelty, and she struggled, trying to pull her arm from his hand.

“Just a dream, was it?” The smile he gave her was sharp and terrifying, those jagged teeth visible. He leaned close to her and she tried to pull away from him again. “Then, prey, why don’t you wake up?

He released his grip on her arm, and she staggered back a step. When she looked up again, she saw his hands lifted and he gave her a shove that was so hard, she fell back.

Instead of landing on the concrete of the road, she kept right on falling. Like Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hold into a darkness that swallowed her whole. She wasn’t certain that she didn’t have a mental break sometime on her way down. Her mind kept telling her that this was impossible, that it had to just be a dream. Things like this only happened in fairy stories, and she’d put such things behind her long ago.

A concussion, she told herself, tears in her eyes. That had to be it. So she wrapped that around herself, still trying to convince herself that it was nothing more than another bad dream. Another nightmare. Like the one all those years ago that had changed her life, then. She was afraid of how this dream would change her.

Still, as she fell through the darkness, there was a tiny shred of doubt. The memory of a party that couldn’t have happened after that dream, after she’d given Toby Lancealot. And a promise that should she need those from her dream, she’d call and they’d answer.

Then, the darkness squeezed her harder and she fainted, giving her brother a sincere mental apology as two tears slipped down her cheeks.


	2. Welcome to the Shadow Court

Sarah could hear voices talking in the room with her. Soft voices, which drew her attention and she turned her head towards them. She noticed that she felt an odd sensation of numbness, and she couldn’t quite make out the words that were being spoken. She could see a man in hospital scrubs talking to her father near the door. They spoke in fervent, hushed tones, and her father lifted a hand over his mouth as if holding in something. His shoulders started to shake, and she realized her father was crying.

She couldn’t make out what they were saying, so she looked away, not wanting to see her father like that. A small hand wrapped around her own drew her attention and she followed the hand up to the tear-stained face of her brother. Toby clung to her hand, his young brow furrowed deep. She could tell he was trying to be strong and felt a stirring of pride in the young boy. She wanted to lift a hand and brush those tears from his cheeks, but she couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to speak, to reassure him that it would be okay, something in her throat kept her from giving voice to her thoughts.

She could see Lancealot clutched to his chest, one of his arms squeezing it tight. As she watched him, he lifted the bear and tucked it into the bed beside her. He pulled the blankets up over it, and then looked at her.

“You need him more than me, right now.” She wasn’t certain how he managed to get those words out past his tears, and he started crying again. Her heart broke as she looked at him, tears on his cheek, snot running from his nose.

“Toby.” Karen’s voice was quiet, thick with grief, as she pulled him away from the bed Sarah was laying on and Sarah tried to lift a hand, to reach for her grieving little brother.

She startled awake in a massive and unfamiliar room. She whipped her head around, trying to identify where she was, now. She was almost certain that just a moment ago she’d been laying in a hospital bed with her family around her. She could remember the accident, the lights, the sounds. She could remember blacking out in the car when it hit a phone pole, and waking in intense pain.

What happened after that?

At first, she couldn’t remember. All that came to mind was fear, the memory that she needed to meet Toby after school. She would need to get up for that, she thought, and got to her feet.

She was almost upright when she remembered everything else. The dark figure looking at her through the windshield. That same figure standing in front of her, dark hair and black eyes. Features similar to the Goblin King that she’d met in her nightmare. She remembered falling, and her mind screaming that whatever was happening wasn’t possible.

The fear and shock from remembering that sent her back onto the fainting couch, and she trembled, looking around the room to try to orient herself.

A bedroom, she realized, taking in the furniture. A vanity and wardrobe that were so large it was obscene. A massive bed with a feminine enough design she could say it was intended for a woman. The fainting couch she sat on was upholstered in the same deep violet fabric as the curtains of the bed. There was a fireplace in front of her, roaring with life. It was impeccable design, but far removed from her personal tastes. It was too dark, and there was something else that was out of place that she couldn’t quite figure out. 

The one door was on the wall nearest her and she ran for it, pulling it open. Her heart fell when she saw that it was only a bathroom. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she examined the space. It was large, with a huge sunken tub in the middle. The water closet appeared to have functioning plumbing, which she figured would be useful, later. There was a shower area, as well.

Too big, she noted, a frown pulling at her lips.

Pushing that thought away, she closed the door and went back into the bedroom, turning slowly once again. Trembling, she reached a conclusion she definitely did not like.

There wasn’t a way out of the room.

She paced back and forth for a moment, and then examined the walls. They were covered with these massive tapestries, hanging from the ceiling almost to the floor. She narrowed her eyes on them and moved around to each, pushing them aside and checking behind them, hoping there would be a damn secret panel or access or something that would tell her she was wrong. 

After a long moment, she heaved a sigh, grinding her teeth. There wasn’t another doorway. The only other way out of the room was a window, and it was too narrow for her to squeeze through. She went to that and looked from it, noting with a frown that she was high enough above the ground that even if she managed to squeeze through it, the fall would make short work of ending her life.

Realizing that a fall from there would be fatal, she closed her eyes tight, wrestling with her fear and her rage. She wasn’t certain which was stronger, right then. 

Outside, she could see trees swaying in the distance, and when she reached a hand outside, she could feel cool air passing over it. She hadn’t decided if it was just dark or overcast outside. Curiosity warred with temper and anxiety but she took a moment to enjoy the feeling of fresh air on her skin.

Where the hell was she?

After a little while enjoying the chill, she drew her hand in once again, and looked down. In the darkness below, she could see what looked like houses and streetlights, but she couldn’t figure out a pattern or if there were roads. The look of the buildings wasn’t anything she recognized. What trees were nearest looked bare, and judging by the coolness of the air, it was the same general time of year as it had been before she’d fallen.

None of that information answered her question.

She wasn’t certain how long she had stood there by that window before she became of someone else in the room, watching her. She gave a half-turn, her eyes narrowing on the figure that was in the room with her. The same dark figure from the scene of the accident. Had it been an accident?

Her anger and temper flared to life, silencing the fear that had been clawing at her since she’d first seen him. Still, being pissed was no reason to give up caution. She put her back to the wall, not taking her eyes away from the man who stood there. She noticed a door open at his side, one that she was quite certain hadn’t been there when she’d first checked.

Dirty cheat, she thought with some venom. Her words, however, were different.

“Where the hell am I?” she asked, ignoring the quaver in her voice. She wouldn’t beg for release. She was going to fight just like she always had if she had to. And she suspected that she had to.

The man tsked, and walked towards her. Even now, she noted that he seemed dark, like he swallowed what little light was in the room around him. His hair was black, long, and pin straight and his eyes were just as dark, like two black holes threatening to swallow her whole. He was dressed from head to toes in black, wearing loose fitting robes that flowed around him. He gave a smirk that pricked her anger and her fear at the same time. He gestured around the space with one hand.

“This is to be your bedroom.” His tone was biting and sarcastic, the words spoken slow as if he thought she were some addle-brained child who needed simple things explained to her. “I would think that much was obvious.”

“Not what I meant,” she managed, skirting away from him as he stepped towards her again. She glared at him, grinding her teeth so hard her jaw ached. “Where the hell am I?”

The man before her smirked, and she got a flash of too many sharp teeth, once again. He gestured over his shoulder without saying a word to her and two small women with dark, soulless eyes appeared in the doorway, bustling towards her. They stopped when they were right in front of her. Doll-faced women with no expression at all, like they were husks.

A shiver worked its way up her spine and she stepped back away from them, further. She didn’t want them anywhere near her.

“These two will help you prepare yourself for this evening,” the man - monster? Creature? - said, and then he turned back towards the doorway. Upon reaching it, he paused, addressing his two servants. “See to it, poppetts, or I’ll see you both served as dinner tomorrow evening.”

Sarah froze, looking at him in rage, but before she could say another word, he left the room. When the door was shut behind him, she saw the doorway was gone once again, leaving a bare wall in its place. She would have ran towards it, but these two creepy women were in her way.

The servants moved towards her and she backed away from them.

“Pardon us, Lady Champion. We must see to it that you are prepared for his majesty, this evening.” They bowed, but didn’t phrase it as a question. As they stepped towards her again, she danced away from them, shaking her head.

“Keep your damn hands off of me!” she gasped, stepping around them, shaking her head. The dead-eyed expressions in their faces terrified her and she didn’t want either of them anywhere near her. Both of them stopped and looked at her, their expressions unchanging. For a moment, she remembered the words he’d spoken at the end before he had left and wondered if he really planned to do that.

No, she decided. That was just a scare tactic. There was no way he would murder his servants just because they couldn’t bully her into doing what they wanted.

“Please, Lady Champion. We have little time.” When they moved towards her, again, she saw too many sharp teeth in their mouths as well and shook her head. Fear choked her and she bolted towards the bathroom door, slamming it in their faces. She pressed her body against it, bracing to make sure they couldn’t push their way in. Sliding to the floor with her back against it, she tried to ignore the fear that clawed at her throat.

Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face in her hands. She felt them spilling down her cheeks and bit back a sob. What the fuck did they mean ‘lady champion’, anyways? Like that was some sort of title. Regardless, reality was starting to set in and in a lot of ways that scared her more. If this was real, that meant the dream she’d had - that nightmare from when she was fifteen - was real, too.

She listened as the two servants continued to beat against the door for almost an hour, and then the sound was suddenly cut off, still silence in its place. She didn’t open the door, continuing to sit against it and stared across the bathroom, wringing her shaking hands together until the bones ached.

Five years ago she’d wished her brother away to the goblins because she was angry about having to watch him. She’d wished him away and been confronted by the Goblin King. She fought her way to the Castle beyond the Goblin City and she had saved her brother, then. All that happened, it wasn’t just a nightmare.

She set her hands over her throat, trying to calm herself enough to breathe. Was this why she was here, now? Was this some petty, twisted revenge on the part of the Goblin King? Was he the one actually pulling the strings? If that was the case, why hadn’t he been the one to drag her back? At least with him, she knew what to expect, knew where she stood, and knew how to deal with him.

Whoever had taken her hadn’t offered her a name, hadn’t told her who or why or where.

She shivered, chafing her hands against her arms to ward off the chill that was seeping into the room. What if she was wrong? What if something else was going on?

It was possible, she supposed. Besides giving Hoggle the peach, she didn’t really think the Goblin King was someone who would send someone else to deal with something like this. If he wanted revenge, he’d have taken it long ago. He’d shown up in her parents bedroom after the goblins had taken her brother, had taunted her and offered her the chance to win him back if she could beat him. When she’d insulted him and his Labyrinth, he’d sent the cleaners after her. When she reached the end, he had stood and faced her, himself.

Shaking herself, Sarah decided that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was figuring out how she was going to get herself home. “I don’t know where I am beyond that I’m trapped in the faerie lands. I don’t know who my captor is. I don’t even know if I’m alive, right now.”

She shuddered, hating giving that thought voice. She supposed in a lot of ways, it was lucky that she remembered in the first place that she’d been alive and was human and had a family in the above. What if she’d lost that? What if this creature had been able to take her memories and had left her reliant on him for everything?

She shivered. At least she still had that much, for whatever it was worth.

She still knew she was at a severe disadvantage. Especially since that bastard could make her door vanish at his whim.

She curled her hands together, pressing her forehead against them and trying to focus on being calm.

How the fuck was she supposed to get out of this? Could she get out of this on her own?

“God, if you exist,” she whispered, squeezing her hands tighter together as she prayed for the first time in years. “Please, please help me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Please.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

“Marcas is on the move, again.”

The voice from in front of Jareth’s desk broke his intense concentration and he looked up, his brow creasing in faint annoyance.The expression dissolved upon meeting the emerald gaze of the woman who looked at him.

Olivia was a changeling woman who had come to the Underground hundreds of years ago. She was a pretty little thing, with dark auburn curls and generous curves that she made certain people were aware of by wearing corsets that pushed her bounty of cleavage to better advantage. She also served him in the capacity of healer, and was one of the best in the Underground.

Her lover was also a warrior that Jareth held in high regard, and irritating either of them was never a good idea if one wanted to keep breathing.

Jareth heaved a sigh and sat upright, tossing his quill onto his desk and ignoring the spatter of ink that landed on the document he’d been working on. Her face was serious as she looked at him, and he knew within an instant where she’d gotten that information. Sending her lover to the Shadow Courts had been a gamble that had paid off, thus far. He felt a frown pulling at his lips, considering her wording.

“What information has your lover been feeding you, now?” he asked, before bending back over his desk and using his gloved palm to wipe the smear of ink from the paper in front of him.

“Two days ago, Marcas took an unregistered trip to the Above. Apparently, he’d received information from one of his spies that my dear Wolf hasn’t been able to determine, as yet. When he returned, there are rumors he brought a mortal back with him. Jareth -” she stepped towards him, her lovely face wearing a serious expression. “Can you afford to have him step on your toes like this? After last time?”

“Do we know the identity of this mortal he spirited away?” he asked, not answering the question she’d asked him at the end. He could feel his expression tightening, lips pulling into a frown.

Of course he couldn’t let this bastard step on him, again. If he was trying, he’d have to hit hard and fast. But that wasn’t something to discuss with Olivia. Yet.

“Not yet,” she admitted. “Apparently Marcas is keeping it all very hush hush. Even in the Shadow Court, no one has seen this person. But that he would do so is enough cause for concern, isn’t it?”

She was right, of course. While Olivia was an exceptional healer, she’d also taken it upon herself to study politics when her elven lover had studied espionage. Both of them had served him quite well in those capacities as well as their regular duties.

A sigh was wrung from him and he looked at her, nodding his head to acknowledge her words. “Thank you for the information, Olivia. Any additional would, of course, be much appreciated. We need to bring him home, soon. He’s been there too long in my opinion.”

“In mine as well, your majesty,” she answered, a smile curling her full lips.

He nodded his head and leaned back in his chair, smirking. “When you speak with him, next, tell him that his next report is to be given to me within the next fortnight and in person. That should be a clear enough message that it’s time for him to get his ass home?”

“Barring something important requiring his attention, I’ve no doubt he’ll be thrilled to hear it,” she admitted, her voice turning sweet and soft. “But you know him. If something happens, he’ll be returning to us late.”

Jareth watched the woman sashay out of the room. Once the door was shut behind her he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his nerves scrape at him. One arm came to rest on the arm of the chair and he set his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek in thought.

Marcas doing anything at all in the above was enough cause for concern. He’d had his trips there restricted a century ago for literal crimes against humanity. Since he was the leader of the Shadow Court, that was all they could do to him. No excursions without permission, and Jareth was who he had to get permission from. Since Jareth had more dealings with mortals and the Above in recent centuries, he was considered an ‘expert’. So he controlled access. Any trips Above were handled by him almost exclusively.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to invite the chaos of the Shadow Court back into the Above. They were cut off with good reason. Whenever one of them went there, there were always problems that typically he had to end up sorting out. All faerie creatures had a rapport for mischief, and loved it well. But the creatures from there -

He shook himself. With barely a thought, he rolled a crystal up to his fingertips and looked in. He didn’t have to say the name, and should have shown Marcas’s face. However, the crystal remained dark, showing him nothing. His eyes narrowed, and he snarled.

“Playing hide and seek, are we?” he crooned, his voice deadly soft. Lifting the crystal to his lips, he blew it and watched as it floated out of his window. Leaning back in his chair, again, he laced his fingers in front of his mouth and took a deep breath. Until he had more information about what was happening in the Shadow Court, there was little he could do about it.

Still.

He pulled a piece of parchment towards himself and dipped his quill in a well of ink, considering how to address this situation to the other courts. It was a warning, and he knew it. If Marcas was on the move again, it wasn’t an idle threat - it was an active one. Marcas had been enraged when he’d been locked down to the Underground in a joint decision by the other four ruling courts, and his leash given to the courtless Goblins.

He kept his message as short and simple as Olivia’s initial message had been. Then, he folded it with care, warming a stub of black wax over a candle and smudging it onto the paper, pressing his seal against it. Then, to ensure that it wasn’t tampered with, he wrapped a tidy little hex in the paper that would blind anyone who wasn’t the intended recipient.

Once that was finished, he duplicated it and wrote two names on the fronts of the letters, and held them out to his side. A gnarled goblin hand took the letters from him and he looked at the squat goblin that looked up at him.

“See to it that these reach the Summer Court’s Puck and Mab of the Winter Court. Don’t fail me, Spurgus, or you’ll find yourself taking up permanent residence in the Bog of Eternal Stench.”

Given how bad goblins actually smelled, he doubted it was much of a threat. The goblin Spurgus gave him a broad, mischievous grin. Then, he scurried out of the window and down the castle wall. Jareth stood and stalked after it a moment later, looking out across the Labyrinth that stretched out beneath him, bracing an arm against the wall. As Spurgus disappeared out of sight, Jareth felt his lips twitch as an amusing thought crossed his mind.

“I probably should have told him to keep mischief in the courts to a minimum,” he mused aloud and a laugh left him. Then, he turned from the window, getting back to work and putting the situation with Marcas and whatever was happening in the Shadow Court out of his mind for now.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

“Toby, we should go home.”

Sarah blinked upon hearing her father’s voice and looked towards it, seeing her brother sitting next to her on the hospital bed, his favorite book clutched in his lap. It was a well-worn copy of Where the Wild Things Are, which she’d been reading to him for quite some time.

Toby shook his head, blond hair falling in his eyes. “I don’t want Sarah to have to be alone here. It’s not fair!”

“You’re right, Toby.” Karen’s voice drew her attention and she looked and saw her straight-laced step mother with her hair a mess, her make-up smeared. “So here’s what I think we should do. Why don’t we read Sarah your book? And after it’s finished, we’ll all go home and rest, and we can come back and visit her again, tomorrow.”

Toby’s eyes watered and Sarah thought she was going to cry, but she wasn’t certain she could. Her little brother’s reading was still shaky at parts, but he read the book to her, sitting next to her, like that. When he was done, he leaned over like she’d always done for him and kissed her on the forehead, and then let his parents usher him out of the room.

Sarah woke, cold and stiff from sleeping, propped against the bathroom door. Her face was damp with tears, and she lifted her hand, wiping them away. She looked around, shivering from the chill in the room and got to her feet, leaving the bathroom. The servants were gone, and the room was empty again.

She walked to the fainting couch by the fire and sat down, chafing her arms, trying to ward off the chill. Her back and neck ached. She found herself wondering if this was the dream, or if the hospital was. Despondent, she sat there, staring at the fire, and lost track of time as her thoughts meandered. Eventually, she felt the sensation of someone watching her and she spun, finding she wasn’t alone in the room, anymore.

That dark figure was standing there, again, someone she didn’t have a name for. His expression was one that frightened her, dark annoyance and a warning to not test him.

He didn’t move towards her. Instead, he waved a hand towards a small table and a platter appeared on it. She scooted back on the couch, away from him as he moved towards the table and her. She hated that everything about him terrified her. If her run of the Labyrinth was real, and it must have been, then she should have a bigger backbone than this. But her mind was still processing the accident and her fall into the faerie lands, and everything else that was happening.

He stopped beside the tray and met her gaze, his expression hard, and a cold smile curved his lips. “Next time, it would serve you well to understand that I never threaten.”

He lifted off the lid of the tray with a flourish and Sarah found herself staring into two pairs of lifeless eyes in two doll-like faces. Dark red ringed the decapitated heads of the two servants who he had told to help her, yesterday. Shock hit her like ice water, and she managed to swallow the scream that clawed its way up her throat. Utter horror choked her words down, and all she could do was stare in mute shock.

“Your defiance, last evening was amusing. I’ll grant you that. However, I suggest that you take today and enjoy the company of these two lovely ladies and take a lesson away from their company. I do not tolerate failure., and I’ll not keep anyone around who is not of use to me. If you are not useful, you’re dead. I do suggest you keep that in mind, from now on.”

He moved towards her and her legs wouldn’t work well enough to let her back away from him. His hand caught her chin in a painfully tight grip as he angled her face up so she was staring up into his black eyes. “This will be your last opportunity to learn. I am holding a party tomorrow evening. You will be in attendance. You will be dressed appropriately, and you will be on time.”

“If I’m not of use to you, why won’t you just send me back home?!” she managed to cry out, lifting a hand and smacking his own away from her face. She saw a flash of temper that scared her, but she looked him straight in the eyes. “I didn’t ask to come here, and you haven't exactly made getting or being here an experience that facilitates cooperation from me!”

He gave a quiet, dark laugh and curled his hand in her hair, dragging her close. “I will send someone to collect you, tomorrow. I do suggest that this time, you cooperate with them.” He shifted, turning her so she had to look at those two heads, once again. “Regardless of what you think, you’re stuck here. You cooperate, you live. You fight me, you end up dead. Which do you think will result in you eventually getting home? Is fighting me really a risk you’re willing to take?”

She shivered in response and he laughed, a cold, brittle, cruel sound and he used his grip on her hair to shover her away from him. She landed back on the fainting couch and found herself alone in the room, sealed in once again. She looked at those two heads, trembling. After a long moment, she turned them so they faced away from her and tears of helplessness filled her eyes. Sinking to her knees, she buried her face in her hands.

“Please, someone. Anyone. Help me.”


	3. Little Fairy God Wolf

He’d been called many names in his lifetime. His lover called him Leto, but only in private. Leto, he was told, meant happy and joyful. He had laughed with bitterness at that discovery. In his long life, he’d found little that brought him any joy beyond the woman he loved.

The Butcher, abomination, murderer, and slave were easily the most common among them, though no one dared call him those to his face any longer. Here, in the Shadow Courts, they called him the Little Wolf - bodyguard of King Marcas. The position gave him leverage that wasn’t allotted to most, here. He was almost always in the presence of the King. He was able to hear and see almost everything as a result.

He’d gotten the job easily enough. He’d posed as an assassin, beat the hell out of the King’s guards, and had a blade against the King’s throat before he’d realized there was a threat. Marcas had recognized his skill, had seen the benefit of having someone so deceptively harmless in service as a guard.

He hadn’t attempted this particular job out of any sense of enjoyment in the work. He was here for information and nothing more. His reputation, though infamous, allowed him a position which granted him access to Marcas, the King of the Shadow Court. He couldn’t stand the man, to be honest. He’d slip a blade between the man’s ribs without a whit of remorse. 

He was here because his king required it of him. There had been rumors for several years that Marcas was planning on moving against the Goblin Kingdom. His job here was to keep an eye on things and report what he had learned to his king. He was looking forward to getting back to his home and his lover’s bed, whenever the Goblin King decided to recall him.

At that point, he’d execute his escape plan.

Escaping a court was always a simple matter for him. He had years of experience escaping unpleasant situations. It was how he’d come to serve the Goblin King in the first place.

He’d been a slave, before then, serving some lesser noble in the Winter Courts. He couldn’t even remember the bastard’s name, it had been so long. There, he’d been used for all manner of things, from sex to murder. His last victim in that court had been his master, whose throat he’d slit after a particularly brutal rape he’d endured. After that, he’d run, because he hadn’t wanted to die, and to be caught would mean his death.

Jareth had found him, a snarling feral in the Canyons of Despair. He hadn’t known the man, then, and had locked with him in a brutal battle that they still both bore scars from. When the fight ended, it was with a hand pinning him by his throat to the ground. He’d told the king leaning over him that he’d rather die than go back to being a slave. The look the man had given him was one of grim amusement, and then he drew a fist back and punched him so hard he’d seen stars before he blacked out.

He’d regained consciousness in a small, but clean bedroom. He’d initially attempted to flee, but the door was locked, and there was magic trapping him inside the room. He’d prepared to fight whoever came into the room, next. He hadn’t been prepared to meet her.

Olivia.

She was a healer by trade, but anyone who thought that meant she couldn’t subdue someone was in for a nasty shock. He’d attempted to go for her when she entered the room holding a tray laden with food. She’d sacrificed the tray, her hands lifting up and glowing with a mix of power that had slammed him back against the wall and knocked the wind out of him.

When he picked himself up, he saw her fussing over the tray that she’d spilled, her auburn hair bound back in a long braid that fell over her freckled shoulders. He tried to dart past her, but she just lifted a hand, not even looking at him, and whatever magic she used then lifted him off the ground and then slammed him back onto the bed. He tried to get up a third time, but whatever spell she’d cast held him down to the bed, unable to move.

_If you really want to get yourself dead, sweets, then you just try to get up one more time. I won’t hesitate to pull one of your ribs out and beat you over the head with it._

She’d declared that with a straight face, and when she stood, he got a good look at her. She wasn’t free of scars, herself, and her eyes held stories that even he wasn’t certain he wanted to know. What he did know in that moment was that the woman wasn’t just a healer. She was a warrior, and she’d seen horrors he’d likely only ever dreamed. He also knew with unwavering certainty that she could and would pull out one of his ribs and beat him over the head with it.

He almost snorted at the memory of the incident, but remembering where he was calmed that response. After all, tonight was one of Marcas’s infernal parties, and there was never anything amusing about those. At least in the Goblin Kingdom there was a sixty-forty chance of someone getting tossed into the Bog. These parties were boring and mind-numbingly dull, even when they were bound to be a big deal. And the Shadow King had been hinting that this party would be one such big deal since he’d gone above days ago.

If he didn’t require the information he’d be getting from it, he’d have already left this court. However, an unauthorized trip above and the rumors…

A woman had been brought back from the Above. Someone that Marcas claimed was the key to the Shadow Court becoming the true power in the Underground. No one knew where this mortal was being kept or if the arrival had been a consensual one. Marcas had never been known for playing nice when he had dealings with mortals. What Little Wolf did know was that no one had seen her since. Even he hadn’t caught a glimpse.

To keep up appearances, he had read Marcas the riot act about leaving the company of his guards for this unauthorized trip. It had only amused the king. That was when the party had been announced. Since then, two servants had been served for dinner, for reasons no one was privy to. Only the heads had been missing, but he’d recognized them as ladies maids who had loyally served Marcas for decades.

Standing in his private room, he straightened his black armor, looking at himself in the mirror for a long moment. Before he turned to leave for the party, he paused, his fingers running over the red scarf tied at his wrist. A favor from his lover, tied there the night before he’d left.

After tonight, he decided he would report back. It was time to go home.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah didn’t sleep well, that night. Nightmares kept her from the peace of seeing her brother and family in the Above, making her relive the crash over and over, every time she closed her eyes. When she’d open them, the two heads were still sitting in her room, a warning to her against disobedience.

How could she obey, however? At this point, it seemed that she was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she woke up. She needed to get up, to move, to do something to force these thoughts from her mind. She was just forcing herself out of her bed when two doll-faced servants swept into the bedroom.

This time, Sarah didn’t have the heart to fight them. She couldn’t justify causing their deaths, just because she didn’t want to cooperate with their boss, nor because they freaked her out.

They were kind, if she was honest. Kinder, by far, than the man who had kidnapped her and refused to send her home. They treated her like a queen, and seemed to have some skill as ladies maids. So, she sat and let them tweak and coiffe her hair, fix her makeup until they decided she was presentable. The dress they shoved her into wasn’t anything close to something she’d pick for herself, too dark and too revealing for her to be comfortable in it. The sugarspun dress from her peach dream in the Labyrinth was closer to her taste.

She barely got a look at herself during the whole thing, before they provided escort to the “party”. After they whisked her out of the room, she did her best to concentrate on examining the interior, trying to pay close attention to any landmarks that could identify how to navigate the structure and give her a route of escape if she got the chance.

It didn’t do her mind or heart any good to note that the whole building was as dark and unsettling as the room she’d been staying in. Black marble, dark tapestries, nightmarish figures on the walls, glaring down at her. Her nerves were getting so bad she thought she’d puke by the time they stopped in front of massive double doors. Sarah could hear strains of music through the heavy wood and squared her shoulders, digging deep for her backbone, wondering if it was still there.

She was distressed to find that her hands were still shaking.

A party, he’d said. Piece of cake, right? Just a massive, terrifying piece of cake. She tried to not think how well using that line of thought had gone for her when she’d run the Labyrinth.

Setting her hands flat against the door, she pushed it open and stepped into the room. She refused to look at the ground, even though she wanted to. She was terrified and furious and felt like she was going to throw up. She decided at that moment that if she was going to hurl, she’d save it until she was right in front of the bastard who had kidnapped her.

Unlike her last time in the Underground, this whole place was an unknown quantity. She didn’t know where she was or who she was dealing with beyond that he was a king. Oh, and that he was willing to kill and eat anyone who failed to live up to his expectations.

Between one step and the next into the room, she flashed back to the accident again, remembering everything with glaring clarity. For just a second, it felt like she was standing outside of her car and standing in the ballroom at the same time. She still hadn’t had sufficient time to process or deal with that with all the other shocks she’d had ever since her initial kidnapping, three days ago. Being able to see what was happening on the other side of the veil was a blessing and a curse. She couldn’t tell how long it had been since she’d arrived here, compared to Aboveground time.

The last time she’d been here, it had been almost a half-day, but at home it had only been a few hours.

Whispers snapped her out of her introspection, from her memories. She realized she’d stopped just inside the room, and hoped that she hadn’t started shaking more. She forced herself to straighten her back, grinding her teeth and feeling anger scraping at her. She didn’t like feeling scared and vulnerable. In a lot of ways, anger was safer. She could see the man who had dragged her here standing up on the dais, wearing a pleased smirk on his face. She turned her glare on him, feeling the ache in her jaw from how hard she ground her teeth together.

Keep smiling, you faerie prick, she thought, curling her hands into fists to control the tremble in them. She moved towards him, knowing that her temper had hold of her because it helped hide her fear. Every step she took screamed of aggression and rage, and she didn’t look away from him as she approached.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, dragging me here and dressing me up in party dresses to parade me around in front of your kind. I don’t even care. You had better send me home, right now,” she demanded, knowing she was making a scene. Her stomach clenched and twisted, threatening to void its sparse contents. 

The man didn’t budge or move a muscle, but the pleased look on his face changed to a sneer. Before she reached him, another man stepped between them, a hand catching her shoulder and stopping her forward momentum. She froze, and looked towards the other man. He kept her from getting even an arm’s length of the bastard who kidnapped her. She turned her attention and her temper on him, narrowing her eyes at him as she examined him.

He was handsome in an inhuman sort of way. His skin was tawny and dark, but his hair was a shock of white above deep, forest green eyes. She noted he wasn’t dressed in the finery of the others in the room, wearing leather armor that fit him like a glove from the high collar to the stirrups around his bare feet, to the metal gauntlets around his hands. The only color on him was a deep scarlet scarf tied at his wrist, like a favor. He lacked the features that would mark him fae, even with the long, pointed ears.

The man didn’t speak, he just met her gaze with his own, quiet understanding in them. He gave a brief shake of his head at her and his eyes warned her without words to not move closer. Even without an aggressive posture, something in those eyes told her that he was probably the most dangerous person in the room.

“It’s fine, Little Wolf. Let her pass,” the man laughed and stepped down from the dais towards them. He gave his guardsman a patronizing smile before he took her hand with force.

She flinched at the pressure he placed on it and snatched her hand away, whirling towards him, her anger boiling over, mixing with her fear in an uncomfortable combination.

“I don’t know who or what the hell you think you are, but I don’t exist for the amusement of you and your kind,” she snapped at him, her brow furrowing deep. “And using fear to manipulate me into cooperating with you is -”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before he laughed at her again. When he spoke, his voice was laced with dark amusement. “What else are mortals good for? Your little hustle and bustle in the Above is nothing compared to the long game that those who live in the Underground live. Now, girl, do shut up. I have a proposition for you that you are going to accept.”

She bristled when she heard the laughter from the crowd. When he tried to grab her again, she stepped back away from him, not bothering to hide her complete hatred of him. He’d done nothing to foster anything else since the car accident, and had done everything to enforce it. “Then go ahead and tell me this ‘proposition’ of yours so I can tell you no and you can send me home.”

“Give me a dance, and I’ll tell you,” he offered, stepping towards her, again.

She didn’t want him anywhere near close enough to dance with her. “Tell me and I’ll give you a dance,” she countered, her stomach still struggling to keep itself down.

“I’m a king, and we don’t take orders. Especially not from wayward mortal girls who think they have some power over their situation.” He smirked and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her onto the floor. She could feel a bruise forming from the pressure he placed on it and couldn’t help wince in pain. “You defeated the Goblin King, pet. So even if you refuse me initially you will not be going anywhere. Your powers are needed for me and my kingdom, and I shall have them with or without your consent.”

Powers, she wondered. What fucking powers? Her brow twitched as he dragged her against him and started turning her on the dancefloor, forcing her to accept his lead or stumble and fall. She stumbled along, not used to dancing, glaring at him.

He sneered down at her, malice in his eyes. “Besides, why wouldn’t you wish to stay here? It’s a beautiful land of beautiful people. You’ll be treated appropriately for your station. Anyone would consider that generous.”

Not compared to everything the Goblin King had done, and she ddn’t even favor him with ‘generous’. She wondered, for a moment, if the bastard was actually insane. “I don’t want to stay because I have my own life, my own family and my own dreams in the Above, none of which involve you or your kind.”

“Ahh, of course. Your baby brother.” Icy claws ripped down her spine as he mentioned him, and fear took over again. “The one you wished off to the Goblin King? If his relation to you is going to be a problem, I’ll have him taken care of. Besides, your dreams and life mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. You will remain in the Shadow Court with me as my bride should.”

Bride?!

She tried to pull away from him. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?!” She braced her hands against his chest, shoving him as hard as she could. It broke the grip he had on her, and resulted in more bruises, but she didn’t care, right then. “Are you insane? Do you think you can just demand that I remain here under some misguided delusion that I’m going to marry you?!”

“You are going to marry me, prey. Whether you want to or like it, as I mentioned before. Your consent makes no difference to me, it’s going to happen. The wheels are already in motion. The power that you used to defeat the Goblin King will be mine.” He approached her and she backed away from him, shaking her head in horror.

What power?! Her wits? Her ability to make friends?! She swallowed hard, remembering his words from the day before.

_You’re useful or you’re dead._

“No, your majesty,” she answered, her voice shaking just a bit, making sure her voice was loud and the rejection as publicly humiliating as possible. “In fact, not just no. _Fuck_ no. You’ll just have to go ahead and kill me, because I’m not going to marry you. Not now, and not ever.”

The face that had been mocking and sardonic turned dark with rage, and her fear started to swallow her again. Still, she’d rather die than endure whatever this was.

Rather than lashing out at her, however, he turned and gestured towards his guard. When he turned back, she saw the black rage still evident in his eyes. As the guard started moving towards them, he spoke, again. “I suppose it’s fortunate for you that we require your power. Little Wolf, I’ve a new task for you. You’re going to guard this mortal bitch until she realizes that the offer I’m making her isn’t one she’s allowed to refuse. She’ll be locked in her bedroom until she changes her mind. You will keep watch over her and discourage any valiant and futile ideas of escape.”

Sarah’s eyes darted towards the elf, who was moving towards her. His eyes were lowered, hiding any expression that might be in them from her. His lips were in a firm line. His hand gripped her arm, but as tight as the grip was, it was to restrain and not injure. She still struggled against him, but before she could do anything else, his fist met her stomach and knocked the wind out of her. She sagged, staring at him with wide eyes and she felt his arm wrap around her back.

Just before she passed out, a quiet, accented voice met her ear. “I’m sorry.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

A knock at the door to his study drew Jareth’s attention from the work that was scattered on his desk and when he looked up, he found Olivia hadn’t waited for an answer. She was standing there by the door, her face paler than usual, her expression one of worry and fear. That look on the face of one of the strongest women he’d ever met made him sit straighter, looking at her. His own nerves caught fire in response.

There was only one thing he knew for certain would put that sort of look on her face, and he didn’t like to even think it. He was half-way to his feet as the words left him, ready to go deal with whoever may have caused the hurt. “What’s wrong? Is he alright?”

“It’s not him,” she said, lifting her hands to stop him. He settled back into his seat, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he waited for her to collect herself to speak. She moved towards him, her hands twisting the excess length of sleeve. “He can’t come home when you asked.”

Meaning there were complications that he was trying to deal with before he returned. Jareth covered his mouth with a hand, one finger tapping his cheek and waiting for her to give him her lover’s report.

“Marcas did bring a mortal here from the Above. A young woman, who he is attempting to force to marry him.”

He would have objected, however, it seemed that Marcas didn’t give a damn regarding the legality of his actions in the Underground. Leaning back in his chair, his brow furrowed and he drummed his free hand on the desk. “This hasn’t been legal in the Underground in over two hundred years. What the devil is he thinking? The high courts will overturn that and rip him to shreds.”

Not that he gave a whit about Marcas’s fate, but this was worse than him simply pissing on the Goblin Kingdom at this point. Was this idiot trying to take on the whole of the Underground?

“There’s, more,” Olivia said, her voice quiet and worried. “This girl has a connection to the Labyrinth, Jareth He seems to think that she has some powers that she used to defeat you. She’s a Champion.”

“Which is why he’s trying to marry her.” He gave a snarl and pushed himself out of his chair to his feet, pacing the small study. He’d had a handful of runners in the last decades. Most of them failed. There had only been three in the last fifty years, and none since five years ago. The previous two had been men. Only the last one had been a woman.

That particular girl had been pretty enough to catch the eye, he supposed, and defiant in an enraging sort of way. She’d scuffed his ego on more than one occasion during his run, declaring his Labyrinth a piece of cake, turning his own subjects against him, and breaking free of the crystal ballroom. However, the game between them had been just that. A game. And in the end, she had one, so he had sent her home.

Jareth pushed a hand through his hair, a quiet snarl leaving him. If it was her, there was no chance she’d last under Marcas’s care. He knew that. If she died, he supposed that would be one less problem for him. However, Marcas’s fixation didn’t bode well for anyone in the Underground, and if Little Wolf was staying behind, that meant there was a reason to remain. 

He was aware that Olivia was behind him, standing silent waiting for orders. He flicked his wrist and a crystal rolled up to his fingertips. He didn’t need to say a word, just throwing a thought at the crystal to show him the girl. What he saw there surprised him. Not her languishing in the Underground, not in some dungeon in Marcas’s castle. No, of course not. Whatever magic Marcas had used to pull her down must have prevented that.

Instead, he saw her laying in a hospital bed in her own world. She was pale, and too still, and covered in stark white bandages, too many wires attached to her. A blond boy sat beside her on the bed, with a little red book open in his lap. He realized with a start that it was her brother, and he was reading her a story. Every now and then, the boy’s hand would lift to his face and wipe the tears falling down it away.

An unfamiliar emotion washed through him as he looked at the scene. He curled his hand around the crystal, and then set it aside on the desk. As soon as it touched the wooden surface, it went dark and empty. While he hadn’t cared one bit about the girl who had reclaimed her brother, he’d cared for the boy. Seeing him so miserable over the state of his sister did not make him happy.

He glared into the fireplace, considering his next step. There were multiple reasons that Little Wolf might consider remaining. His history likely would prevent him leaving that girl there if she was at risk. The elf had a noble streak that was a mile long, though he often kept it well hidden. He also knew his spy hated Marcas, and would do literally anything that he wasn’t expressly ordered to not do to piss on his toes.

“What are you going to do, Jareth?”

Olivia’s voice drew his attention, once again. He took a deep breath, considering and as he turned towards her, a smirk curved his lips. “Well, my dear, we’re going to prepare my castle for a guest, of course. Knowing your dear wolf, he will get her out of there, I’m certain. If anyone wouldn’t tolerate one of the fae attempting to imprison and enslave, it’s him. Until then, all we can do is bide our time.”

“Who is she?” The woman looked confused. She wouldn’t remember the last runner. She had been in the Summer Court at the time, treating a severe malady that was affecting the courts.

Jareth wouldn’t speak her name, not now. He wasn’t certain if Marcas had any spies in his own court and he knew well enough to not throw around names when he was involved. He didn’t know what would happen if Marcas learned he knew of her presence in the Underground, either. What he did know, however, was he was going to have to keep her here after she was rescued. Until he knew for certain what Marcas wanted with her.

As far as he’d ever been able to tell, she had no special magic. She was merely a mortal who played the game against him and won. That was rare, but not unheard of. Whenever Marcas realized that, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

It was odd, he thought, mentally cheering for a girl who had defeated him. And yet, he found himself doing just that. He was ready to command his spy to quit his post, and get the girl out at the same time. Still, he wasn’t certain how he had her simultaneously here as well as in her own world. Unless -

He turned towards his desk and picked up a sheet of paper, jotting several notes on it. He held it out and a clawed hand grabbed it. “Boing, go to the Above. You remember the child that was wished away five years ago? Check on him and the sister. I want details on what happened there. Take Sir Didymus with you.”

The goblin gave him a toothy grin and sprang out the window. Shortly afterwards, he heard several thumps followed by expletives as it smacked into things on it’s way down the side of the castle. He moved towards the window to watch it, his lips pulling into a faint frown.

She shouldn’t have remembered her run of the Labyrinth. He had enough experience dealing with wishers to know that after her victory party, after she’d gone to bed that evening, she’d have forgotten most of it. If she remembered any of it, it likely seemed like a lucid dream.

“Jareth?”

Olivia’s voice drew him from his thoughts again and he turned towards her, giving her a look of patient amusement. Lifting a finger to his lips, he drew on his magic and silenced the room so no one outside would hear anything. “If I’m correct, then you are right. She is the Champion, Olivia. The last one that ran the Labyrinth, five years ago. The real question is how he got her here, when she appears to be laying in a coma in her own realm. And if my hypothesis is correct, he’s committed several more crimes than even your lover is aware of.”

Her face went pale once again and she took a deep breath. “He will get her out of there, I know it. Will you send her home?”

“What’s the point in sending her straight back when Marcas knows where to find her and has already proven that he can and will circumvent my safeguards and gain access to the above without my knowledge? She’d end up back here, or he’d kill her outright.” He went back to sit in his chair, leaning back, a hand covering his mouth. After a moment, he looked at her, his face serious. “See to preparing things for her arrival. I believe you could use an assistant, don’t you? And Olivia -” he paused, his expression serious. “When she does arrive, I believe it would be in everyone’s best interests if we pretend we do not know it’s her. For her own sake as well as the kingdom’s.”

Olivia straightened, her manner changing from friend and confidant to that of one of his staff. “Very well, your majesty. I will see that it’s done. But assuming you’re right, how are you going to convince her that it’s in her best interests to stay?”

He looked at her and gave her a lazy smile. “I imagine that she’ll do her best to pretend she doesn’t know me, either. That will include her doing her best to avoid telling me the details of how she came to be here and where she’s from. A wayward mortal, trapped here, looking for work? I won’t need to make up some story. She’ll trap herself here, in order to keep away from him.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah could hear her brother again, and she wasn’t certain if this connection was going to drive her mad, at this rate. He was stumbling through another book, and from the furrow in his brow, it wasn’t one he’d read before. He was having trouble, but he didn’t stop.She looked towards him and saw him hunched over a little book with a red cover, and her heart bled. He was reading her favorite story to her. 

The Labyrinth.

She’d played pretend with it in the park years ago, imagined herself a grand princess on a mission to get a child back, and then she’d wished away her brother. She’d ended up with the reality of that particular journey, as a result. The fear of not getting him back. She’d thought it was all a dream, but now she knew the truth. The words in the story were pretty ones, but they weren’t the truth of what she’d faced.

Still, if she held the two fae kings in comparison, she couldn’t deny that the Goblin King was kinder and far more generous than this one. At this point, she didn’t even know the bastard’s name - not even the kingdoms had spoken it.

She wasn’t able to stay long, this time. She woke, again, in the bedroom she’d been given in the castle of the Shadow King. Tears welled in her eyes and she closed them tight, letting them fall. She knew better than to cry about how unfair this was. She’d learned that lesson well enough from the Goblin King.

Life wasn’t fair. But that didn’t mean that this steaming pile of bullshit didn’t make her heart feel like it was going to break.

“I apologize for the rough treatment.”

The voice near her startled her out of her daze and she jolted, scrambling without thought away from whoever had spoken. She found the guardsman sitting there, relaxed, in a chair by her bed. She backed away from him on all fours until the full width of the bed was between them. Somehow, she suspected the distance would mean fuckall if he decided to go after her.

She was shaking, again, she noticed. The terrified tremors she’d had since the accident. She curled her hands into fists to try to control the tremble.

The look he gave her was one of genuine amusement, though he managed it without the sardonic edge of the King. He lifted his hands up, showing them palm first to her, as if to prove that he was unarmed. “You can relax. Any harm that may come to you will not be visited upon you by myself.”

“At the moment?” He got to his feet, bending in a galant if showy bow, and when he looked at her, his smile was unexpectedly pleasant. “I am called Little Wolf. I suppose you might call me Marcas’s bodyguard, although I admit it is not a position that I have accepted by choice. I’ll even go as far as to admit that while I am in service to the Shadow Court at the moment, I suspect that I’ll be returning to my home, shortly.”

She frowned at his wording, puzzling over it for a long moment. It was an effective non-answer, she thought, frowning. The phrasing was awkward, however, as if there were a message he was trying to give her under the words, without saying it outright. Not in a position he’s in by choice, but going home shortly. Where was home, she wondered, and her brow furrowed as she looked at him, again.

His eyes, she noted, were almost too large for the proportions of his face, and while there was nothing human about his features, he also didn’t have the look of either king she’d met. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but...what are you?”

“Elven by birth,” he said, giving a short nod. “Employed by King Marcas of the Shadow Courts - for now. Beyond that, I don’t recommend inquiring further about my job. My position here leaves me in a unique position to be of some assistance to you. If you so choose. I already had one plan of escape, however it only worked for a single person and if I’m smuggling two out of the city, I’ll need to work on something else.”

“Wait,” she said, staring at him, dumbstruck. “You’re going to help me?”

“I’ll need some time to see what I can find, and I’ll need you to keep quiet about it. If this man discovers who and what I actually am, he will kill me and you’ll be stuck here attempting to escape on your own. I think that wouldn’t be an advantage for either of us. And my lover would be most displeased if she had to drag me back into my body. She could do it, but she wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“You’re a spy,” she whispered, surprised at the realization. Of course it made sense. She doubted that Marcas had many friends, considering how he treats people.

“You are a clever one, aren’t you,” he answered, his smile one of amusement. “My king’s lands are safe, safer than you’ll find yourself here. Whatever he did to bring you here, my king will be able to fix and get you home?”

She swallowed hard, too much emotion in her throat, fear and hope and god, could she even trust this man? “You’re sure he’ll help me?”

“Of course.” The words burst out of him as a laugh. “You being held in the Underground against your will would hold no interest to him, Champion.”

“People keep calling me that,” She said, her voice rising in consternation, feeling her temper straining. “What the hell am I supposed to be the Champion of?!”

“The Labyrinth, of course.”

She stopped, looking at him in wide-eyed surprise. They knew. She supposed she should have known that. “But -”

“You defeated someone and something that few, even here, would dare to attempt. That means something in the Underground.” He looked at her for a long moment, his expression softening. “Even in a place like this, where the darker parts of the Underground reside. There are fewer more challenging tests of grit and determination, and fewer fae who play such a game as well as the Goblin King.

A shiver worked its way up her back at the thought of him. “I don’t know. For the longest time I’d thought it was all just a nightmare that I’d had. Being respected for that is…”

“Unsettling?”

“No worse than everything else, here,” she admitted. “Part of me still thinks that this is just another bad dream.”

“Champion,” he said, and his voice was very quiet and the tone in it gave her pause. “I promise you, this is no nightmare. If I lied to you and said it was, it would do you a disservice, and may lead you to making terrible decisions with severe consequences. I know I’ve not done a damn thing to warrant your trust. Regardless of that, I ask that you trust me. I wouldn’t take you to my king if I thought for a moment that he wouldn’t do his best to help you. He’s selfish, and a bastard a fair bit of the time, and he doesn’t take well to losing at anything, but he’s a good man. He’ll give you the protection you need.”

She looked him in the face for a long moment, her breath leaving her in a trembling sigh. “What is your name?”

“For now, you may call me as they do.” He shook his head, giving her a bit of a smile. “If my real identity were to become known, here, that would be troublesome for us both. ‘Little Wolf’ is close enough. As for yours, do not offer it to me, either. Marcas is waiting for it, waiting to have that much power over you.”

She stopped, surprised. It took her a moment to realize that in the time she’d been here, Marcas had never actually addressed her by her name. She swallowed hard, looking at him. “Names have power.”

“And to give your name to a fae creature is to surrender yourself to it. Hence why you’ll notice that no one in this court uses their given names, including me. Marcas is a special case, in that he has many names, and none of them are his true name.” Little Wolf looked at her for a long moment and his lips curved into another smile and a quiet chuckle left him. “Since I’m to be your guard for the time being, and ensure you do not attempt to escape, I do suggest you at least pretend that you’re afraid of me. The Shadow King will no doubt continue to come here to demand that you marry him. And since I’ll be here, during these excursions of his, I’ll be able to keep you from most harm.”

Her heart twisted in her chest, and she almost hated that she felt a burning light of hope in there. It was a foolish idea to trust a creature from the Faerie Lands, and she knew it, but what other choice did she have? After a long moment, considering her options, she nodded, lifting her eyes to look at him.

“Alright, then. I’ll do my best.”


	4. The Champion's Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence and rape

Sarah was looking out the window at the ever-twilight of the Shadow Court’s skyline when a hand beating against her door jarred her from her thoughts. She had realized since arriving here her sensitivity to sound had increased to the point where it almost caused a panic attack when they happened. She didn’t remember having issues like this before she’d come to be here, so she had to assume it was related to being in the Underground. At least, that’s what she told herself.

She turned as the door was pushed open and she saw Marcas standing there, again. His expression was dark and furious, his eyes narrowed on her. There wasn’t a trace of the usual sneer he wore as he entered the room. Behind him was Little Wolf, who hadn’t let her be alone with him since he’d been made her guard. She wasn’t certain how she could express how grateful for that she was. Instead of commenting on that, she heaved a sigh and turned towards them.

“That time of day, again, already?”

She had trouble working out the length of days here. The constant twilight of the sky made discerning day from night difficult enough. Little Wolf had told her that day and night did occur, but it was difficult to tell when someone first arrived. So she used these little visits of the Shadow King to keep track of the span of days. Even with that, she knew she was off by a little.

“I see you haven’t given up on your little protest, yet, have you?” Marcas snapped at her, his movements screaming aggression as he walked towards her. He stopped arm’s length away from her, which in her opinion was too damn close. Still, she dug inside herself for any fight she had, even with her heart rabbiting around her chest. “I’ve sent word to the high courts that I’m to be wed. The wedding will take place one month from today. As I told you at the ball, I do not require your consent for this, pet.”

She squared her shoulders, trying to smother the fear she felt. “I have not, and if I’m forced to marry you in a month, you’ll have a dead woman rather than a bride. I would rather kill myself than submit to even a second as your wife.”

His dark eyes hardened and his hand snatched out, grabbing her by the throat. She refused to look away from his eyes, even as his hand tightened and he started lifting her off the ground until her toes barely brushed the floor. He leaned close to her, drawing her face towards him, as if he could scowl her into submission. She bared her teeth and snarled at him, her hand grasping the wrist of the one that held her, digging her nails into his skin as hard as she could.

“Your majesty,” Little Wolf said, then, his voice quiet in the room. He was near enough she could see through her blurring vision that he’d set a gauntleted hand over Marcas’s arm. “If you kill her, now, you won’t have a bride at all. I’ll ensure she survives til the appointed day.”

Marcas gave a quiet snarl at the reminder and his grip loosened at her throat. Before he dropped her, he smacked her against the wall, letting her head thump back against it. When his grip relaxed completely, Sarah crumpled to the floor, clutching her throat and gasping for breath as her vision cleared.

“See that you do, Little Wolf.”

Tears that had been standing in her eyes fell down her cheeks. She wasn’t crying. Not exactly. Still, she lifted her eyes and glared at his back as Marcas left the room and tried to catch her breath. Neither she nor Little Wolf spoke for a long moment, not until they heard the door click shut and the sounds of Marcas’s footsteps leaving the area.

Now that he was gone, more tears filled her eyes that she couldn’t explain away and slid down her face. She ground her teeth together, as if she could stop them by sheer force of will, her fists pressing against her eyes to stem the flow. Tears did her no good. She needed to stop wasting her time on them, here.

Little Wolf approached her, crouching down at her side. He lifted her face, his eyes on her neck, ignoring the tears on her cheeks. She was glad he didn’t mention them. His expression was grim as he checked over the skin of her neck, the gauntlets briefly grazing her skin.

“It doesn’t look like he caused any bruising.”

As if she was worried about bruises. Still, she nodded, and when he released her face, she hid it in her hands, again. He went quiet, leaning against the wall beside her. They sat there in silence for a long moment before she felt brave enough to ask.

“Have you thought of a way to get out of here?” she asked, not liking the shaky way her voice sounded. Regardless if he’d bruised her or not, she was hurting.

He looked towards her, his expression serious. He didn’t answer her, which she supposed was answer enough. Closing her eyes, she pressed her palms against her face, trying hard to not panic. He rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. “I’ve got an idea, but I’m still trying to work out the details. I should have us a way out by dawn.”

She blinked, looking up at him as he got to his feet and paced towards the door. Relief was so palpable, she almost gave a shout of joy. She bit the response back, blinking back her tears. Instead of answering that, she nodded, getting to her own feet. There were a few minor abrasions from her fall, but nothing she couldn’t tolerate.

“I’ve got a report to make,” he said, turning and looking at her for a moment. “You should get some rest, Champion.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, heaving a sigh. She felt her exhaustion scraping at her, and after a moment, she nodded her head. “Alright, Little Wolf. You try to get some rest, too.” 

When she looked at him, he gave her a half-smile that softened his features, before heading towards the door. As he left, she climbed into the bed. She didn’t like sleeping in it, and usually she just pulled the blankets off the bed and went to the fainting couch by the fire. As usual, once the door closed behind her guard, it sealed and disappeared. She looked at it for a long moment and heaved a sigh.

She got out of the massive thing, wrapping the sheets around herself to ward off the chill and walked towards the fainting couch, staring into the fireplace. She wished, not for the first time, that she could move the massive furniture against the wall the door always appeared on, but she doubted that would do a damn thing to help her if Marcas decided to get into the room.

Most of the time, Little Wolf stayed outside of her room on a couch across from the door, a token appearance of keeping her from running off. On occasion, he would leave and another guard would take his place, relieving him of duty temporarily so he could go off and do whatever he needed to do. He never left her to another guard until after Marcas came by to give her his ultimatum.

Marry me, and you’ll have the privileges and station of the Queen of the Shadow Court.

Every day, she told him to piss off, just as she had the first time. She didn’t want to die, but she absolutely didn’t want to marry him, either. If Little Wolf got her out of there as soon as he seemed to think he could, she wouldn’t have to do either. If he didn’t she’d bite her own tongue off and let herself bleed out.

The thought of that broke her heart, because it meant she’d never see her brother, again. She didn’t want to even think of the guilt he must feel. She could see it well enough in her dreams, when he would sit there, reading her stories that were above his level, just to try to comfort her. She didn’t even know if she was alive in her world, not really. She could seldom hear what the doctors discussed with her parents, but she could see the hope in their eyes dying.

At this point, she didn’t even know how long it had been since the accident. Not really. She slept when she was tired, but she still refused to eat the food they put in front of her, unless Little Wolf brought it to her. 

He’d kept a close eye on her, and a closer eye on Marcas. He was also the one who had convinced Marcas that her getting fresh air wouldn’t do her any harm. As a result, she got a few hours every day in an open courtyard every day - under supervision of course. 

He was a better friend than she’d had in a long time, a better one than she probably deserved. His presence kept Marcas from lashing out in his temper, his cool head having kept her from more than mild bruises, most of the time. She wasn’t certain what it was about him, but it seemed to her that even Marcas was a little afraid of Little Wolf.

Because of his kindness, she didn’t want him to get hurt on her account, and so far, that was the only thing that kept her from running. She was terrified almost all the time, and her hands still hadn’t stopped their trembling, but his presence made everything a little easier to bear. He could be charming, and had an acerbic wit that made it easy to laugh with him. She suspected his presence was the only reason she hadn’t broken, yet.

He hadn’t told her much about himself or the person he reported to. If she was right and he was a spy, that was reason enough for him to keep that information close to his chest. What she did know was he had been ordered to return, and he was remaining so that he could get her out of here.

The biggest worry she had at the moment was that Marcas would notice that she’d been developing a good rapport with the guard, and he’d either use that against her or he would change guards. Then, she wouldn’t be able to escape at all, she thought. She wasn’t certain why she trusted him to get her out of here beyond the fact that he seemed to genuinely hate Marcas as much as she did.

That, and escaping on her own seemed impossible.

She wasn’t certain how long she sat, staring at the fire, but her exhausted body seemed to be refusing to sleep, right then. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to sleep. Every time she did, she saw her brother and it was driving her half-mad, because she couldn’t reach out to him and let him know that she was alive, that she could hear him. Seeing him sit next to her and cry and read to her, while their parents stood over them broke her heart. The grief on their faces was too much to bear.

She knew that not sleeping would result in her being an emotional mess, later, but nothing she did would help her relax enough to sleep right then. Perhaps it was the promise of escape, and soon. Perhaps it was the nightmares she felt on the edges of her consciousness, even when she saw her family. Maybe it was just her fears still strangling her.

She didn’t get much chance to think about that. One minute, she was sitting in front of the fire, thinking about everything and everyone. The next, there was a crashing sound that sounded like it was at one of her walls. Metal screeching and twisting, scraping against a hard surface.

Sarah whipped around towards the wall, eyes wide, her entire body tight as a spring. The sound faded, and then there was another, to her left, the same sort of sound, and she whipped towards that, next, her entire body going weak, the trembling growing worse. She backed away from it, but another happened to her right, next, and she gave a scream of fear that she couldn’t hold in. The next sound was an ominous crunch.

She had thought it was over, for a moment, but then it started again, and no matter where she turned, the pattern was always the same. Behind her, to her left, then right, then crunch. She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to drown it out, but the sound wouldn’t go away. As she turned around the room, looking for an escape, somewhere she could go to hide. That’s when she saw the door that Little Wolf had left through earlier. It was visible, and there was the faintest crack that she could see.

The door was open.

Part of her recognized that the door had been sealed earlier, but maybe she was so used to it closing and disappearing, she’d been wrong. Regardless, it offered her a way to escape the thundering sounds. That slam came from behind her, again, and she gave another quiet scream, bolting for that door and throwing it open, escaping the room and the sounds that were there. As she ran through the halls, she wasn’t thinking of Marcas or running away from him. She just wanted - no, needed - to get away from that horrible sound.

As she ran, the sound kept following her. It echoed through empty halls, rattling her every time it started up again. Each time she thought she was somewhere hidden and safe, it would find her, again, forcing her to keep running. Hysterical sobs escaped her, the body-shaking kind, and she wasn’t even certain how she managed to keep running.

She went around a corner, and something caught her hair, jerking her to a stop. The ache in her scalp, the sounds closing in on her again made her fight whoever held her, struggling against the grip on her hair. A shriek of fear escaped her, and she was spun and slammed into a wall. Her head hit the stone with crushing force, and the already dark, frightening world turned darker around her.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

After leaving the Champion, Little Wolf wandered the halls for a brief period, going through the motions of reporting in to his superiors. There was only one report that mattered, and he knew it. So when he finally made it to his room, he pulled a small crystal, no larger than a marble, from the table beside his bed. The crystal held a spell that he’d used before he contacted his true home.

It held a simple enough muffling spell, one that would cover up anything he said in the room, and hide the identities of those he spoke with. The Goblin King had given it to him before he’d left the Goblin City. A brush of his fingers against the cool surface activated it, and he set it on the small table he’d pulled it from. The next crystal he retrieved came from the pouch on his belt, one that he didn’t leave lying around.

This was the crystal that was dangerous to have. If anyone else had gotten their hands on it during the time he’d been in the Shadow Court, his real allegiance would have been revealed, and he’d be very dead. This one was a direct line to home, to his lover, who was well known as the healer of the Goblin King. And if he ended up dead, they’d end up with that particular healer on their doorstep, and the resulting carnage would be difficult enough to diplomatically unsnarl that everyone knew it was best for the Underground as a whole if she didn’t end up so blindingly furious.

He held the crystal for a long moment, wondering if he should hold off until after he’d gotten the girl out. He didn’t like leaving the Champion alone. She was barely more than a girl, regardless of if her body was technically mature by human standards. She was in no way mentally mature enough to deal with the intrigue of the fae courts, and he knew it. That she stood up to Marcas was impressive, but he knew something was battering the girl. She hadn’t discussed whatever caused her to be here with him any more than he’d discussed his life with her. Here and now wasn’t the time or place for that sort of discussion, and they both knew it.

Still, he had to rest, and that was another thing they knew. She’d been just as pointed about him taking care of himself as he’d been about making sure Marcas never stepped over the line with her. That meant eating and sleeping, and he didn’t trust anyone here, other than her, to sleep in the open. That was a good way to end up dead.

With a sigh, he lifted the crystal in front of him, throwing a thought towards it. The face that appeared on the other side wasn’t his lover’s, and he sucked in a surprised breath to find his king staring back at him. He hadn’t seen his king in ages, since his lover usually acted the part of go between. He took a deep breath, giving the other man a respectful nod, though he didn’t bother addressing him by name or title. There was too much risk involved with that, even with the spell to discourage those who might listen in.

The king nodded in return, his lips pulled into a bit of a frown. “Little Wolf, you’re late reporting in. Your lover has been beside herself. Do try to not make her worry, further.”

“Time has been scarce to do so,” he admitted, and he took a steadying breath. “The Shadow King has made me the guard for the Champion, to ensure she doesn’t escape.”

There was a long silence from his king, and he thought he detected a strange intensity in his eyes. It was as if the king was turning thoughts over in his head, and when the king spoke, his voice was low. “Is she going to make it through this?”

The words were a bit of a surprise, but he nodded, anyways. “I’ll make certain of it,” he said, keeping his voice low. “She has a lot of trauma and she’s not getting a chance to recover from it. I have a way out, at dawn. If she’s here much longer, she’ll break.”

He wasn’t certain she’d ever be whole again if that happened. It wasn’t something any of them need to think about, right now. It was enough of a worry that he could see the strain that this place was putting on her.

“How did she come to be there in the first place? He shouldn’t have been able to find her - she didn’t remember the Underground. I know she didn’t. I dealt with those memories, myself.”

“She remembered it as a lucid nightmare,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if that was enough to draw his attention, but that’s not how he got her here. She hasn’t spoken about how she came to be here, but whatever happened, cut her deeply. She’s almost always terrified, her hands shake constantly. She tries to control it, but I’m not sure she can.”

His king frowned and they both lapsed into silence for a long moment. He was about to speak again, when he heard alarms go off throughout the castle. He knew what that meant, and his heart dropped into his stomach. “I have to go.”

“Little Wolf, you need to listen. Get out, now. You don’t know what those alarms are for. If you can’t get her out, too, that’s fine, we can worry about that another day. Just get yourself out.” The king’s voice didn’t leave room for argument, but he looked right into the man’s face. After a short moment, he shook his head. 

“No, I’m not leaving that girl here at his mercy.”

He saw the shock in his king’s eyes for just a moment before he shoved that crystal into the pouch once again and snatched up the crystal marble shoving that in another pocket before he headed out into the halls to go check on the Champion. He hoped she hadn’t done something stupi that could compromise their escape.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah regained consciousness in her bed, wondering for a moment if the whole event had been a dream. She could remember the terrifying crashing noises chasing her down the hall, and for some reason those noises were more frightening than the memory of being chased by the cleaners in the Labyrinth. It reminded her of something, but she was very keenly aware she didn’t want to focus on what it reminded her of. A shiver worked its way through her and she went to chafe her arms, but as she shifted, she realized she was shackled.

Looking at her wrists, she found heavy chains extending from her wrists to the frame of the bed and she felt fear twist inside of her as she looked around the room. At the foot of the bed, she found the dark form of Marcas standing there. Her room was sealed shut, no doorways visible. The cracked door from before was barely a memory. How had it opened? Had she somehow willed that to happen, or was she getting messed with?

“I had a rather interesting epiphany while I was waiting for you to wake up, pet.” The man’s voice was a soft, deadly croon and it sent chills down her spine. “Little Wolf was right, of course. I can’t kill you - you’re too important for that, after all. But you tried to run away, to escape me. And I just can’t abide that.”

She shook her head, realizing what he thought. She supposed that was a reasonable assumption, but it wasn’t the reality. She’d run because of the noise, because she was afraid. She opened her mouth to object, but her vocal chords were locked by her fear.

“Isn’t it fortunate for me that there are ways to punish such misbehavior without killing you? Perhaps it’s time for me to use some of the weapons I have in my arsenal against you.” She wasted precious seconds deciphering what he’d just said before his knee came to rest on the foot of the bed. The implication of his words slammed into her and panic set in as he grabbed the waistband of her jeans. They burned away from her, seeming to melt from the point of contact until he just ripped what shreds remained. He tossed the discarded scraps away from the bed, a sneer on his face.

NO! She shook her head, kicking at him. She nailed him once in the stomach before he lifted a hand and struck her across the side of the face so hard that stars danced in her vision for a moment. Her shirt was ripped off of her next, and she cringed away from him, struggling and squeezing her thighs together as he tried to force his way between them.

“NO!” She finally found her voice and screamed the word at him. He leaned down to muffle the scream with his lips and she headbutted him as hard as she could manage from the position. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, she decided, even if she was afraid that he’d kill her for injuring him. For a moment, she thought he would, when his hand closed down over her throat and she saw the temper and maliciousness in his dark eyes. He lifted the other hand and struck her again, just as hard as the first time, and this time she felt blood fill her mouth when she caught her tongue between her teeth.

The hand on her throat pressed down, cutting off her air and blood to her brain until she thought she’d black out again. He didn’t give her that reprieve.

His hand at her throat relaxed, and his knees pinned her thighs down so she couldn’t kick at him again. His free hand slid along her side, and she squirmed to try to evade the touch. When she did, his fingers dug in beneath her floating ribs, and then he made a rough movement and she heard them snap as he broke them.

Another scream escaped her, and she wanted to pass out, but even with the pain something kept her from that. It was as if he were forcing her to stay awake and endure this. He moved his other hand to the other ribs, and he broke those as well. Next, he set his fingers against her clavicle and with a twist of his hands, broke both sides at the same time. As before, she couldn’t faint to escape the pain, and his eyes glowed with cruelty as he forced her to endure every single ounce of pain he wanted to wring from her.

Her screams and sobs were the only sounds in the room as he tortured her. He didn’t stop there. Several times, he choked her until she was on the verge of passing out, only to deny her the relief by relaxing his grip. He punched and slapped her face over and over again.

Then, he stopped, looming over her as she sobbed.

“Stop your whimpering, you mewling bitch,” he snarled, and his hand curled over her throat, again. 

The pain didn’t let her stop, but she tried, biting her lip hard enough that it stifled the sound.

“I SAID STOP!”

His hands continued hitting her across the face, over and over and that just made the rest of the pain far worse. Eventually, she had no choice but to comply since she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs to breathe. So her sobs stopped, her screams silenced, all that remained being the shuddering sound of her breaths. Her vocal chords seized, and only when she was silent did he continue.

He shed the dark robes he wore and ripped her innocence from her with violent intent, one hand continuing to choke her silent as she lay there, staring at the ceiling of the room. She couldn’t cry or scream any longer, even though the screams continued to ring out in her head. She couldn’t fight against him, she couldn’t escape the pain. No one could protect her from him, in the end. Not really.

When it was over, he climbed off the bed, putting his robes back on and leaving her broken and battered, bleeding and chained to her bed. Cold crept over her, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to die. The monster moved towards her window and lit a thin, black cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the room. He looked pleased with herself.

She just thought she was going to vomit.

She became aware of pounding at the door, but she couldn’t turn her head towards it. She heard it creak open and from the corners of her eyes, she saw Little Wolf standing in her doorway. He met her gaze, saw the state she was in, and rage filled his eyes before he turned towards Marcas. She could see him trying to control the response, even as she saw his hands curl into fists at his sides.

“The alarms went off. What happened, your majesty?”

Before he could say or do anything further, Marcas dropped the cigarette into the fireplace and turned towards him. Once Little Wolf was within reach, his hand shot forward, catching him by the throat and lifting his slender form off the floor. That dark cruelty was in the man’s eyes again, as he stared at the guard.

“What happened, Little Wolf? What happened?! You left her door ajar! She ran and almost escaped me! And you dare ask me what happened?!”

She shook her head, another scream building in her throat, but all that escaped was a frightened moan. 

No, don’t hurt him. He’d been trying to protect her. Don’t let him do to the one person here that she trusted as he’d done to the servants the first night. Tears poured from her eyes, because there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Before she had a moment to even think anything else, Marcas slammed the elf to the floor and she heard him hit with a sickening crunch. After that was just the sound of flesh hitting flesh as he held him down and beat him until the elf went very still, his pale hair stained with red.

Then, Marcas stood, straightening his robes, and examining the scuff marks on his hands, his expression cold. When he looked at her, his lips curved into a cruel smile. “Remember this, pet. You made me do this to you, and to Little Wolf. Next time I speak of our wedding, there will be no rebellion, no protest. You will say ‘yes, sir’, and accept your fate. After that, if I get even a hint of disrespect from you, what happened tonight will seem like a love tap. I’ll give you until tomorrow night to come to terms with your new reality.”

After that, he swept out of the room, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she lay there, her hope now beaten, her spirit broken, and her will battered.


	5. The Way Out is the Trash Disposal

Sarah didn’t know how long she lay there after everything went silent. It could have been hours or years and she wouldn’t have noticed the passage of time. Her entire body felt cold, almost numb. She thought she might be dying before a groan from where Little Wolf had fallen drew her attention. She couldn’t move to look for him, but that sound almost made her burst into tears, again.

She bit her lip as hard as she could to muffle the sob, and the pain from it forced more tears from her eyes, but she didn’t make a noise louder than a shaking breath. When she saw his head lift off the floor before he rolled onto his side, she bit her lower lip, trying to keep further sobs from escaping her. It hurt too much to cry, now. The pain had chased away that numb feeling, and when she saw the guard sit up, she felt the first real flash of relief inside her.

Not that it mattered. They were both beaten, battered. How were they going to get out of here? She was in too much pain to walk out on her own, now. All because her panic had sent her into flight. She had no idea why she’d reacted like that. It didn’t make any sense. The sounds couldn’t hurt her, so why had they scared her like that?

As she lay there, Little Wolf staggered to his feet, and then moved towards her. She couldn’t keep herself from shying away from him, and the movement caused pain to lance through her. A quiet cry escaped her, in response, even as she saw him looming over her. The fear choked her, and she couldn’t control it. This was her friend, and she couldn’t stop the terror that ripped through her.

However, he didn’t touch her.

He gripped the chains that held her hands above her head, and there was a strange blue light that ran across his skin before the chains seemed to shatter above her. The sound was loud and jarring, and a frightened gasp escaped her. She tried to move away from him, again, an instinct she couldn’t prevent, but a moan of pain escaped her that she couldn’t quite hold in.

He looked her in the eyes, his own expression intense.

“Champion, it’s me. I need you to focus.”

She shivered, looking up at him, and tears fell down her face, again.

This time, he did touch her. The first contact was near her collarbone, just a light brush of fingertips. She flinched, but he didn’t keep his hand there. The next place his fingers made contact were at her side. She stared up at the ceiling, her will to fight or resist gone. He wasn’t hurting her. She held onto that fact as tight as she could. When he brushed fingers between her thighs, the contact was no longer than any other touch. She flinched away from that touch, as well, unable to stop the reaction.

Little Wolf looked at his fingers, and his expression changed to one of fury, before he bounded off the bed, setting about pacing the room with agitation. He didn’t say a word as he did, just wore a spot on the floor for a long moment, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small clear marble. He brushed his fingers on it before setting it on the floor in the middle of the room.

As she watched, he reached into another pocket, this one on his belt, and pulled a crystal sphere from it. Her blood turned to ice and fear scratched at her spine, just to see it. She would have shaken her head, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the crystal. She took that moment to look at his face, seeing the bruising, bleeding, and swelling from the beating he’d taken.

“Little Wolf, what the hell -” The voice that left the crystal made her whimper, and the other voice went dead silent. She couldn’t see him, but she knew that voice, and now understood who Little Wolf served. He was a spy from the Goblin King. That was why he was getting her out of here.”

“I don’t have time for a story. I need a doorway big enough for two people to get through and I need it, now!” Little Wolf snarled at the crystal, his expression showing how deep his temper burned. “I’m getting her out of here -”

She shook her head, terrified, but the pain made tears fall down her face, again. He pointed at her, his face furious, but the anger wasn’t aimed at her.

“I’m not leaving you, here. If you want dropped off somewhere on the way, that’s up to you.”

She was glad that he hadn’t called her Champion. She didn’t want the Goblin King to know who Little Wolf was getting out of here. But at the same time, she didn’t want to go to the Goblin City. She couldn’t. That king would be no more kind to her than this one, no matter what Little Wolf thought. Her entire body trembled, just at the thought. The two men hadn’t spoken for a long moment, and she wasn’t certain what sort of communication the two were having, but it wasn’t verbal.

After a moment, the king spoke, again.

“Alright, Little Wolf. You’re not going to listen to any suggestions I have to give. When this connection ends, the crystal will become your doorway. It will take you wherever you need to go within range of that castle. If I could open one up straight here, I would, but I can’t do that through this link.” She heard him go quiet for a moment. “Understand that after I change it, you will not be able to communicate with the Goblin City again until you arrive.”

Little Wolf gave a sharp nod, not looking away from the crystal. “Understood.”

“When you arrive, report to the healer, first. After you’ve done that, report to me.”

“Yes, your highness,” he said, his expression going softer for just a moment.

After the crystal went dark, she felt like she was going to tremble apart. “Little Wolf, I can’t go there. He hates me, too. I can’t, please -” She couldn’t get her voice above a gasped whisper as she spoke.

He moved towards her, leaned over her, meeting her gaze. “I want you to understand something, Champion. You can’t stay here. Marcas isn’t going to stop this. What he did to you tonight? He’ll do it over and over again until you’re too broken physically and mentally to fight him.”

A shudder of fear wracked her body as he spoke that particular truth.

He hung his head, shaking it after a moment. “I’m not going to ask you to trust my king. I don’t think you know him well enough for that. What I’m asking is that you trust me. Let me get you out of here.”

What was the point of escaping? Out of the frying pan and into the fire? “What if you let me die, here?”

His expression was startled, and then grieved. After a long moment, he shook his head. “No, Champion. You don’t have to like it, but I’m not going to leave you here to Marcas’s cruelty. I can’t do that.”

Tears filled her eyes at those words, and she bit her lip. “I’m not a fighter like you, Little Wolf. I’m already broken. Just leave me and get yourself out.”

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and swore in a language she didn’t recognize. “Listen. You don’t have to come to the castle. I know some people in the Labyrinth who will keep your presence there a secret. And I promise I won’t mention it to him when I report in. Just don’t tell me to leave you, again. Please.”

She shuddered, looking at him for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek.

He wanted her to survive. She just wanted to give up. She was in so much pain, she thought she was going to vomit. She had been in a perpetual state of fear that wasn’t getting any better. She wasn’t even certain how she was still conscious at this point. “I can’t move. I’m in too much pain.”

She opened her eyes and found him leaning over her, too much understanding in his own. As she watched, he dug into another pouch in his belt and pulled out a vial, flicking the stopper out.

“This will let you sleep through the movement. I know where to go to get us out of here safely. I just have to get us there, and I’ll carry you out. So sleep, Champion.”

Oblivion, she realized, was what he was offering her. She stared at the potion for a moment before she nodded, and he lifted it to her lips, dumping it down her throat.

She noted, first, that the potion tasted like peaches. A half-smile at the irony curved her lips, but darkness swept up and over her, dragging her under, where she couldn’t feel the pain of her body, feel the fear in her heart, nor could she hear her brother reading to her.

Here was peace, the first she’d felt in too long.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth sat there after the connection with him broke, tapping a tattoo against his cheekbone in his agitation.

Two hours ago, when that alarm had gone off while they’d been talking, he’d been fine, physically. He, personally, had worried that something had happened that got his best spy and warrior caught. He’d tried to convince him that it was time to abandon his side quest to save the girl and come home. He’d seldom seen the warrior so stubborn about rescuing someone and wondered where the kinship he felt towards the girl had come from.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, when the other man had refused to return immediately.

Seeing him now, with blood and bruises on his face and a depth of rage in his eyes told him something had gone dreadfully wrong after their first conversation. He hadn’t seen that murderous look in the elf’s eyes in a very long time. Not since he’d agreed to serve him. He’d always done his best to make certain that he knew that he was safe in this kingdom, that he would never be a slave again.

That he would never be brutalized like that, again.

He knew of Marcas’s penchant for cruelty, but he hadn’t expected the other king to lash out at a guard like that. Especially not one as talented and strong as his spy. He stared at the blank crystal, his lips pulled into a deep frown.

What the devil had happened between one conversation and the next?

It wasn’t something that he could answer until they had him safely home.

He snarled, leaning back in his chair and letting his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. If not for his own discipline, he’d go and give Marcas a helping of similar cruelty. He didn’t often show that side of himself. After all, he prided himself in having a kingdom of happy subjects. He didn’t feel the urge or need to use fear to manipulate those who lived in the city or surrounding lands into compliance.

The real question that haunted his thoughts was what had put that temper in the other man’s eyes. The elf could take pain, had taken the job knowing that he could be hurt badly. The insistence that he wouldn’t leave her behind, there was something there, but he wasn’t certain what.

A knock sounded at his door and he looked towards it as Olivia walked in. She held two envelopes in front of her, her expression was serious, but not grim. He sighed, and straightened as she moved towards him. He was going to have to tell her what was coming. If she ended up with a battered lover in her infirmary, before he warned her, she’d never forgive him.

She stopped in front of him, handing the envelopes over. “Word from the Summer and Winter courts, your majesty,” she said, and she almost turned, but he lifted a hand as he took the envelopes.

While important, the letters could wait for a moment. A few minutes between receiving and responding to them meant little at this moment. “Have a seat, Olivia.”

She looked surprised, but she sat perched on the leather chair in front of his desk. “I do have other work, your majesty.”

Her tone was cautious and respectful, as if she’d taken measure of his mood and knew something was up. “I just spoke with your wolf.”

She didn’t give much outward sign of her concerns, but she saw worry in her eyes. Her hands curled into the satin skirt she wore, the grip creasing the fabric. She didn’t speak for a long moment, not looking away from his eyes, and he knew she was trying to read him. She was good at it. Good enough that he saw the worry flare brighter.

“Fenris?” Her voice was a weak whisper when she spoke. It was the first time she’d spoken that name in the entire time he’d been in the Shadow Court. There was always too much risk in that. She never called him Leto in public, though both of them knew that was her lover’s birth name. When he’d come to the Goblin City, the goblins themselves gave him the name Fenris, and it was that name that he’d embraced.

His true name, the one that would grant others power over him if they wished it.

“He’s coming home,” he said, nodding his head with a sigh. “I don’t know everything which happened today, but he has been injured. No, I don’t know how bad it is, all I saw was his face, but he was up and moving. He refused to leave the Champion behind. He has a door out of the castle, now, but after that it’s on him. It should give him a shorter route of escape.”

At the knowledge that her lover was hurt, she went ghostly pale, her freckles standing out on milky ice. Then, a flicker of rage flashed deep in her eyes, so strong it bordered on insanity. She hid that rather quickly, which he appreciated. It wasn’t often that Olivia showed that aspect of herself. Every time it did, it was a reminder that as badly hurt as Fenris had been in his life, she had her own trauma.

“Who hurt him?”

“He didn’t tell me. I suspect however hurt he is, however, whatever happened to the Champion was worse. So I need you to be ready to receive patients when they arrive.” He paused, remembering the sick gasp he’d heard from nearby when he’d been talking through the crystal. The sound was one of terror, of fear so deep it scarred a soul. Her voice had sounded weak, raspy. Fenris had been careful to never turn that crystal towards her, so he had no idea what depth of injury she’d sustained. A part of him worried that decision had been intentional on his spy’s part.

A strange, sick feeling twisted his gut, and he pressed his fist against it for a moment, his brow furrowing. He could see Olivia looking at him with a serious expression, as if she sensed something he hadn’t said.

After the nausea subsided, he lifted the letters, breaking the seals. He skimmed over them and an impatient sigh escaped him.

“Bad news?”

“As ever, they are hesitating to make a strong statement regarding another court and their king, even one like the Shadow Court. Stars, I hate politics,” he snarled, leaning back in his chair. Bullshit like this was why he was the Goblin King, and not a king at one of the courts. The goblins had liked him, and he liked that they didn’t have a court of their own. He thanked the stars for that on a regular basis. The closest thing they usually had to intrigue was infighting over chickens.

The last real fight they’d had was five years ago, when three of his own turned traitors and helped the runner.

In the end, he hadn’t seen fit to punish those three for it. He rather applauded it after the fact, even if the loss had stung. It kept things interesting, and it was too easy to get sucked into the monotony of work.

With a frustrated sigh, he slapped the letters down onto his desk and leaned back, pushing a hand through his hair. A sigh slipped from him and he didn’t like it. He’d been sighing too much, today.

“When will my patients arrive?”

He looked back at Olivia, and nodded, turning back to the situation at hand. “I had to turn their communication crystal into a doorway. I could do that much through the connection, but that means until he’s here, we’re out of contact with him. It is Fenris, however. As long as they lay low, they’ll make it here, just fine.”

“You’re worried, Jareth,” she said, and the switch from subject to friend caught his attention. 

He looked at her for a long moment, seeing the same worries in her eyes and after a moment, he nodded his head. Slumping in his chair, he stared at the papers that were scattered on his desk without seeing them. Then, he looked at the ceiling again, trying to think. 

“I trust his judgement, but you didn’t see the rage in his eyes. I haven’t seen him like that in a very long time. Whatever happened has brought out some of the most savage aspects of his personality. It’s not their journey that concerns me. Fenris has decided he will bring her to the Goblin Kingdom. So he will. He will make certain that they arrive in one piece. He wouldn’t dare risk his life and end up having to deal with the resulting ire waiting here.”

“You’re worried about what was done to the Champion?” There was surprise and speculation in those green eyes when he met them. Then, the surprise died and she just chewed on that information for a moment.

Yes, he was, and he wasn’t certain why that was. But for now, there was nothing either of them could do besides speculate. Until those two arrived, and they knew for certain that they were safe, once again.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Little Wolf kept track of the passage of time after he gave her the potion. It took her minutes to fall asleep, even with that much assistance. Emotionally and physically, she was in so much pain it hurt him to look at her. He knew what torture looked like, and had no doubt that Marcas had weilded it with precision.

Once she was in the sweet grasp of unconsciousness, he wrapped her blankets around her and scooped her up against his chest. He shattered the marble on the floor, under the heel of his foot, before taking the larger one and closing his eyes. When he opened them, there was a doorway in the wall, cracked open. He took a steadying breath and shifted his grip on her, walking towards it and pushing it open.

They were in a dingy alley next to a cart that was loaded with trash from the castle, bound for the trash heaps outside of the Goblin City. A few careful inquiries with the kitchen staff had told him when the pick up was going to be, but he hadn’t counted on everything else. The garbage cart was always pulled by a goblin, because no one else could navigate the Labyrinth who didn’t live in it.

As soon as they cleared the city walls, they’d be safe. His head ached, and there was a throbbing pain in his jaw that he could do nothing about. He knew he came out of the situation better than most, and the pain caused a clarity that would be a benefit to her. He should have counted on what happened, but he hadn’t, and that was on him.

He wanted to know what the hell had happened, but at the same time, he didn’t want to. Right now, in his ignorance, the rage he felt was tempered. He didn’t know why she’d run, but he’d promised her he would get her out of the Shadow Court, and he would. He would keep that promise. So he shifted the trash around so there was a space that he could rest her where she might have some semblance of comfort, and he shifted next to her, making certain that he didn’t crowd her, even as he shifted the trash so that it would conceal them.

It reeked, but the stench would make it more difficult to trace them, and that was a blessing.

It was dawn when the cart started to amble down the road away from the castle. He knew the goblin that was escorting it knew they were there, but he also knew that it wouldn’t tell a soul of their presence. As they cleared the city walls, the alarms went off again, for the second time in less than a day, and he flopped back against the trash, pushing a hand through his hair. He swore with savage precision when it snarled in dried blood, and he noted the throbbing pain wasn’t just in his head. He lifted a hand to his side, as a laugh escaped him, just a quiet chuckle. He watched as the city walls grew smaller until they disappeared behind the trash around them.

He wasn’t certain how long they’d travelled along that bumpy road. Admittedly, he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, and the silence from the Champion’s still form didn’t do anything to keep him awake. A moan of pain had his eyes snapping open, and he glanced over, finding her stirring in the blanket cocoon. As he watched her, her nose wrinkled, and then her eyes opened.

His heart froze in his chest at the look in her eyes. The light he’d seen in them, the spark of light that had been in them the day before was gone. That worried him more than anything else. How was he supposed to help her stay alive when she looked like she was dead inside.

Several questions came to his mind that were all so god awful stupid that he bit the instinct to ask them back.

“We’re away?”

“We’re out of the city,” he confirmed. “We got out shortly after dawn, and we’ve been traveling since. We should be in the trash heaps outside of the Goblin City by dawn tomorrow.”

As he watched, a tear slipped from her eye and cut a path down the side of her face, disappearing into her hairline.

“I know you’re in pain, but if you can bear with it, for now, I have an idea. I have another dose of that potion. It’ll be best to wait until it’s time for you to move before you take it.” Her eyes moved towards him and after a moment, she nodded in agreement.

Her brow was furrowed in pain as she leaned her head back, eyes closing. The fact that she was just accepting the pain as a part of her life infuriated him. Still, he forced himself to think, to talk.

“My name is Fenris,” he finally said, not certain she understood the level of trust involved with telling her that. He hadn’t said or heard his own name in a long time. It was too much of a risk, if Marcas learned it. And here he was, just handing it over to her.

She turned her head to look at him, again, surprise in her expression. Then, a small smile curved her lips and a sigh escaped her. Then, she lifted her eyes to the sky, looking up at the stars for a long moment, and he wondered if she was going to give him her name in return. She was silent for a while, and he decided it was fine, shifting and relaxing back into the pile of trash once again.

“I’m Sarah,” she answered back, her voice a quiet rasp that was unfamiliar.

Still, a bit of a smile curved his lips. “Nice to make your acquaintance at last.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and he kept watch as she drifted in and out of consciousness during their journey. He wished he’d contacted others before his departure, but there hadn’t been time. Still, there was a place that he could take her, where she could recover, a place that would be familiar to her. He’d just have to convince Jareth to let Olivia come out to see her, so she could be healed.

At least the physical discomforts. He knew that there was nothing but time that could heal the pain of what had been done to her.

He’d have to figure out how to explain to Jareth why he wasn’t bringing her up to the castle. Surely the man had heard that terrified gasp, knew she was frightened of him. She’d made that clear enough when he’d spoken to his king through the crystal

He knew that a large part of Jareth wouldn’t tolerate that. He wouldn’t be okay with someone in his kingdom being terrified of him. He hadn’t lied, Jareth was a good king - one of the best in the Underground. He was fair. How could a good king be alright with someone being frightened witless at the thought of them.

He just hadn’t figured out how he was going to explain why the Goblin King should keep his distance from her, especially so soon after this new trauma. Without telling the king exactly what had been done to her.

Maybe he should just tell him outright.

A sigh burst from him and he pushed a hand through his hair, curling it into a fist.

Jareth couldn’t understand having so much trauma piled up on you that you cracked under the weight of it. He hadn’t known him when he’d been fragile, had met him after he’d turned feral. He wouldn’t know what the loss of light in those eyes meant. He wouldn’t know how to recognize the lost hope.

He genuinely hoped that his monarch never had to feel that sort of pain.

As cruel as hope could sometimes be, the loss of it ripped something away from a person. His lover knew that as well as he did. But Jareth didn’t. Jareth had never had his hope torn away from him. He’d never experienced the sort of loss and pain and grief. So Jareth might try to approach her, might frighten her when her fear scraped her temper.

In doing so, whatever he did to bridge the gap might just crumble the ground beneath her further. And he was going to have to do his best to make certain that didn’t happen.


	6. The Birth of Goblinskin

Olivia hadn’t been able to relax since she’d heard that she had two patients incoming. If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t been able to relax or sleep through the night since Fenris had gone away, but the previous evening had been worse than any prior. She often had patients, however knowing that her lover was hurt and being unable to go to him was difficult.

She’d decided early on that rather than laying in bed, tossing and turning all night, she’d put her time to better use. So she worked. She started preparing her office for when Fenris and the Champion would arrive in the Labyrinth, when they’d need her services. Her alchemical ingredients were scattered across the worktable, beakers and flasks with tinctures lining the shelves behind her. Most of the potions were intended to heal, but she’d dabbled in poisons as well. Others were to aid in sleep or wakefulness. Both of those got more use than any other brew she made.

Her sleeves were tied up behind her to keep them out of her way as she leaned over the table, tapping out carefully measured powders into liquids. Most wouldn’t know what the intentions of the things were, but she was making a special potion for intensive healing that she suspected would be needed. She had worked well into the night when a sound by the door an hour after dawn shattered her fierce concentration.

She looked up, pinning whoever stood in the doorway with a sharp look that melted when she recognized the man who stood there. She’d know that shock-white hair anywhere. Her breath caught and she remembered Jareth’s words about Fenris being hurt. She went still, looking at him as she straightened, not moving towards him, yet.

“How bad is it?” She broke the silence that hung between them after a long moment, noting that he stayed far enough in the darkened doorway that she couldn’t quite tell.

“I’ve had worse.”

Her lips twisted into a frown and she stepped around the table towards him, and with a gesture, a ball of light hovered on the air beside them. Her professionalism made her bite back the cry of shock when she saw him, and she felt a moment of appreciation to Jareth for telling her. He’d given her the time to brace herself.

His face was battered, bloody, bruised. His hair was still matted with blood. He couldn’t know how bad he looked, or he’d have cleaned himself up before coming to see her. She looked away for a moment, blinking her eyes hard, because tears were trying to fill her eyes, and she needed to focus.

She lifted her hands to his face, forcing herself to not cry as she drew up her magic to determine how much healing he’d actually need. Sometimes, someone looked worse than it was, but this was just as awful as it looked. His cheekbone had been broken, and he had several cracked ribs. There was a concussion, hemorrhaging around his eye and a crack in the socket. Swallowing her rage, she began the process of mending bones and healing flesh, her jaw tight as she worked.

He was right, he’d had worse. That wasn’t saying much, however. She’d seen him after Jareth brought him to the kingdom, after he’d escaped slavery, emaciated and beat to hell because he wouldn’t stay down and kept fighting. She’d seen him at death’s door, after returning from dealing with a particularly nasty dragon that hadn’t wanted to listen to reason. She’d pulled him back from beatings and poisonings, and more. So he wasn’t wrong.

That didn’t make seeing him like this any easier.

He always reminded her that his job in the kingdom meant that sometimes, he would get hurt and she knew that. This, however, was different. This wasn’t just some creature that couldn’t help itself. This was a monster that held the intelligence of the fae, as well as the capriciousness and cruelty of it. It was a bastard who used pain and torture and fear to force his subjects into obedience, just like the one who had called himself Fenris’s “Master”.

She heard him give a quiet groan as the pain eased and he sagged against her a bit, his arms wrapping around her, and she gave a cursory sniff, wrinkling her nose, but not pushing him back. “You should get cleaned up before you report to his majesty.”

“I plan to,” he said, taking her hands and giving them a squeeze. “That can wait. I was going to ask him to permit you to come to the aid of one who needs it even more than I did when I arrived.”

She drew back, holding his hands and looking up into his face, finding anger and pain in his expression. The look was familiar, too close to what she’d seen when he first arrived at the castle. She took a steadying breath, nodding her head. “Take me to her.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Fenris had told Olivia everything he dared as he took her to Sarah, where he’d tucked her away so she’d feel safe. The rage that was pushing hard at the edge of sanity stopped him from telling her about the rape. She’d know, regardless, when she started the healing. Given his lover’s past, he didn’t quite dare mention it. When they’d reached the room of broken dreams, a room that had appeared sometime after Sarah’s run of the Labyrinth, he’d left her to it so he could find those who could help her while he was reporting to his King.

Now that he wasn’t in pain, Fenris could feel his exhaustion catching up with him and knew it was only a matter of time before it put him off his feet. He needed to deal with this and the King as soon as possible or he’d be down for the count until he slept off the healing and the weariness from keeping guard for over twenty four hours. 

That was why he found himself at his least favorite part of the Labyrinth. No one liked The Bog of Eternal Stench, and he knew it was a valid punishment for anyone or anything with functioning nostrils. He suspected that the fox goblin who guarded the bog had long since lost his sense of smell, which was why he could tolerate it. Even today, Sir Didymus was at his post, looking alter and rather spry for a goblin of his considerable years.

This was something Sarah would need to be able to feel even remotely safe, here. So he would do this, and then he’d report to his king. And he needed to get that done quickly, because he could see the sun creeping up into the sky as the day wore on.

“Sir Didymus,” he called, keeping his voice low. It wasn’t difficult, it was already rough from the lack of rest, and he knew that he still didn’t look very well. He hadn’t had a chance to clean up, yet and reeked of the garbage mounds, and his own blood and body odor. At this point, that would have to wait until after he reported in.

“Verily, my dear friend!” The fox turned towards him, all rakish charm and good humor that faded when he got a good look at him. He knew he could see how tired he was, the blood that still smeared his face. Sir Didymus straightened, ever the knight, and approached him. “You are looking most unwell. Have you seen the healer, yet?”

“Olivia already patched me up, Sir,” he promised, and took a deep breath. “That’s not why I’m here. A mutual friend has arrived in the Labyrinth and requires your aid.”

Vicious protectiveness flashed in the small goblin’s eyes, a tense look in his face. “Are my brother’s in danger?”

“No,” he said, and he dropped to one knee, putting himself at the fox goblin’s level, keeping his voice low. “I have brought a refugee with me from the Shadow Courts. Someone who was taken from her home against her will. Someone you served as a knight in the past. Sarah is in the Underground, and she needs you.”

“My lady?!” Sir Didymus’s whiskers twitched and his eyes were wide in shock and concern. He could tell the knight wasn’t thinking about his duty to his post, wasn’t thinking about his brothers. He was thinking about the girl who had run the maze and triumphed and left a lasting impression on those within it.

“Yes, Didymus.” Fenris nodded, taking a steadying breath. “She’s hiding out in the trash heaps outside of the city. It was the only place I could convince her to go when we got here. Do you remember the room of broken dreams? That’s where she is. But she’s hurt, Sir. Her physical injuries will be handled by Olivia, who is with her, now. She’s sleeping, so the pain isn’t too much. There are other injuries that aren’t going to be able to be healed by anything but time. And so she needs you.”

Didymus’s eyes grew wet as if he were close to tears, but he nodded in answer. “I will go to her with haste, good knight. I must get my brothers, as well. They will wish to give her what aid they can as well.”

Fenris gave him a smile, nodding and setting a hand on the fox goblin’s shoulder. “You do that. Like I said, she’s sleeping right now, and Olivia is overseeing the physical healing. She might try to push you away when she wakes. She didn’t want to come here. But she needs you all more than she’ll admit.” He would know, he’d undergone that same sort of soul deep injuries that couldn’t be healed by magic. “In the meantime, I must report to our King.”

For better or worse.

“Fenris,” the fox said, drawing his attention back to him as he got to his feet. There was concern in those wet eyes. “What will you tell him?

That was the question, wasn’t it? One he still didn’t have a real answer for. Sarah didn’t want Jareth to know that she was in the Labyrinth. She’d been raped and brutalized, and probably didn’t want a fae male within a hundred steps of her. He wasn’t certain how she had tolerated his presence as she had.

So, he turned towards the fox goblin and took a deep breath, grinned and shrugged and said what he did know.

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah woke laying in a familiar bed in a familiar room that was more nostalgic than she had expected it should be. She sat, turning in the bed with slow caution. Her room hadn’t looked like this since after her run of the Labyrinth, when she’d finally passed her stuffed toys to her brother and packed up the childish things she kept strewn about. She kept the picture of her mother there on her mirror, but the rest were packed away in a scrapbook, now.

As she turned, she found the broken wall that her friends here had pulled her through. She could tell, on some level, that the room had been picked up, and cleaned. It was dust free, and the trash seemed to have been moved from around the gap. She could see the light pouring through the window, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

It took her a long moment to notice that the pain that had wracked her body yesterday was gone, and she looked down, finding herself dressed in a clean shift. She lifted her hands, touching her collarbone, finding the fractures were gone, the areas still tender. There was the same tenderness when she ran her fingers over her ribs, but the pain was gone. She took several soothing breaths, feeling, for a moment like she was going to burst into tears.

She twisted at the waist, lifting her arms, again, just to be certain, and found that the agony she’d felt before was now just a bad memory. A tear wound down her face and she took a calming breath. If not for the broken wall, for the nostalgic room, she’d wonder if she had woken back in the Above, safe in her childhood home from the monsters in the Underground.

But, she wasn’t. She was still in the Underground, just outside the Goblin City, within the walls of the Labyrinth. That wasn’t safe, she thought. It was too close to the Goblin King.

Still, she was alive, she hadn’t died. She’d survived the brutality that had been inflicted on her.

That thought brought a swirl of memories of what had been done to her only a day ago. They returned with crystal clarity and she heaved over the side of the bed, grasping for the trash can out of instinct, before being quietly and thoroughly sick. Nothing but bile left her, having not eaten the day before. She wouldn’t have been able to keep food down, anyways, considering how much pain she’d been in, but the taste of it just made her heave harder.

As she leaned over the side of her bed, she noted her hands were still shaking and she curled them into her hair, until her scalp ached from how hard she was pulling at her hair. She tried to push those memories out of her head, and wondered how she was supposed to cope with something like this. Should she pretend it had never happened? Could she forget the violence and cruelty that had been visited upon her? Would she even be able to manage that much?

She felt filthy, revolted by her own body, and wanted to scrub her skin until the foul touch was gone from it. It was the weapon that Marcas had used to hurt her, now, not something that was a part of her.

A sob heaved from her and she fell back towards the bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the daylight that filtered through the crack in the wall. She told herself that the brightness was what made the tears fill her eyes. After all, how long had it been since she’d seen proper daylight? A part of her wanted to crawl out of the room, to be in the sunlight, but she was afraid. She was too scared to leave this room, now that she had the freedom to do so.

Here was an illusion of comfort, the familiarity of home, without the pain that had come to be a part of her life. A time before the accident, a time before the kidnapping, the brutality of her captivity, the -

A shaking breath escaped her as she pushed that last thought away. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she tried to focus on the fact that she was alive. Alive, against all odds, and if Fenris’s promise could be believed, safe. He wouldn’t break her trust, she thought. Not after he’d earnestly demanded that she let him save her. Then again, she got the impression that if she’d still refused, he’d have carried her out of there whether she liked it or not.

Even now, she didn’t understand why he’d been so insistent. She supposed that if he served the Goblin King and she did have some sort of power left behind from her victory, it would make sense why he wouldn’t want her in enemy hands. She didn’t feel like she had some special powers, however. She felt like everything she was had been destroyed in a few short weeks and she hadn’t had time to recover from the first time. At this point, she was just breaking into smaller and smaller pieces, fragments of the woman she’d been.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention and she scooted back in the corner of her bed, pulling the blanket up and around herself to try to hide from whoever was coming. Then, two voices called out and who she heard wasn’t who she had expected.

“My lady?!”

“Sarah!”

“Sir Didymus?” The word was a rasp, her voice still not her own. It felt raw, but not as bad as the day before. The fox goblin walked through the door, found her on the bed and gave her a sweeping bow. Tears pierced her eyes and she bit her lower lip, looking towards the other form who had entered the room behind him. “Hoggle?”

“Verily, my lady, your knights are at your service!” The fox’s proclamation was firm, and he moved towards her with an expression of concern. “We have been told you have been grievously injured, my lady, and that you would need us.”

“Sarah -” Hoggle walked towards her, and there was something she couldn’t quite decipher about his expression. After a moment of hesitating, he shook his head, biting his lower lip as if to hold something in before he looked at her with a serious and worried expression. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe, now.”

That much reassurance nearly broke her, further. She curled in on herself, and tears fell down her face. The pair sat bed to her on the edge of her bed and she turned towards them, reaching out and taking their hands, squeezing them. She could feel their hands wrap around hers in return.

Hoggle’s promise meant a lot, especially since she knew he was promising to protect her from Jareth, too.

“My lady, what happened to you?” Sir Didymus asked, his voice concerned.

She felt her stomach twist again and thought she’d puke, again. Quickly, she shook her head, swallowing the bile back down, unable to talk about it. “It...It doesn’t matter, now.” That was a lie. It did matter. It mattered to her, but she just couldn’t talk about it. “I was hurt, but I’m here and I’m safe, now, right?” They both nodded and she lowered her head until she couldn’t see the worry in their eyes. “I can’t...be me while I’m here. I don’t want -”

Hoggle’s hand squeezed hers, and she knew that he understood, even though she’d false-started and didn’t seem to be able to voice the thought. Finally, she shook herself out of her thoughts, not sure how much time had passed as she’d stared at the white comforter around her.

“I need your help.. I need to hide who I am while I’m here.”

They didn’t bother naming the person she was hiding from. Hoggle just shot a glance at Didymus and as she watched him, she saw him heave out a breath. “Best bet would be pretending to be a goblin, then. Enough of those, I doubt he knows every single one’s name. Could help you lay low, especially if you’re hiding out here.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, she thought, considering it for a moment. She could hide out in the Labyrinth, not have to be anywhere near the Goblin King. She wasn’t certain she could face him, now. She was relying on him for protection, but she didn’t know, yet, if she needed to be protected from him in addition to the Shadow King.

The three of them lapsed into silence for a long moment, and finally, she nodded her head and took a deep breath. She couldn’t tell them all of the hurts that had been inflicted on her. She didn’t want that look in their eyes to change, for that friendship to change to disgust - the same disgust she felt with herself. She didn’t want them to know what she’d endured to get here. So, instead of dwelling on it, she forced herself to smile. She could tell from the worry on their faces that it was a poor facsimile for what she’d given them in the past.

“Can you two help me pass as a goblin?” She managed to ask what she needed to after a long moment.

“Of course, my lady.” Sir Didymus straightened, looking proud to be of service.

She shook her head at him, giving him a smile and squeezing his small furry hand. “From now on, you mustn’t call me that, Didymus. Not that or my name. From now on, I need to not be those things, so I can be safe here.”

“Then we’ll need a name to call you so you know we’re talking to you,” Hoggle said, tension around his eyes.

A story came to mind, one that she’d read as a girl. One of a girl who had been told she’d been forced to marry someone she didn’t wish to, who escaped with the help of her fairy godmother, wearing the skin of a donkey. Donkeyskin was the name of the old French fairy tale, and she decided that would do. 

“Goblinskin,” she said, after thinking about it for a long time. “Call me Goblinskin.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth sat back as there was a knock at his desk, his eyes narrowing on the door as it opened, admitting his friend. He noted first that the man was exhausted, and looked like he needed to sleep for about a week. He noted next that only a token effort had been made to clean himself up. When Fenris stood across the desk from him, he could catch the faintest whiff of the bog of stench and food garbage lingering in the air around him. There were still streaks of blood in his hair and on his skin, and Jareth wondered if he’d come straight here after mopping his face off.

Fenris gave a bow, and Jareth got to his feet, looking at him in the eyes for a long moment. “Fenris, you reek.”

The warrior straightened, giving him a wry grin. “My apologies, your majesty.”

The pair of them just looked at each other for a long moment, communicating much without words. Fenris had an expressive face. Even when he was wearing a mask and faking his emotions, anyone who knew him well could see things that he didn’t say.

“You didn’t bring the girl before me,” Jareth noted as he sat back down and leaned back, looking up at him, steepling his fingers. Fenris hesitated only for a moment before he nodded in agreement.

“I apologize, your majesty. However, right now, she’s too afraid. In her state -”

“Of which you’ve mentioned precious little -” Jareth interceded.

“She won’t be able to face you, yet.” Fenris continued. “She needs some time.”

“Why?” He asked, a frown pulling his lips. He could understand the girl being afraid of Marcas, considering the bastard’s well earned reputation. He couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t be able to stand before him, again. He had never given her reason to think he’d cause her harm.

Well, there was the incident with the cleaners, but that wasn’t important.

“Because, you frighten her.” Those words shocked him, and he stared at Fenris, dumbstruck. “She believes you hate her for defeating you.”

He scoffed, looking away. “That’s ridiculous. It was just a game. I’m not some child who throws a tantrum when I lose a game. She won fair and square, regardless of my cheating.”

“I agree, your majesty. However, regardless of your true feelings on the matter, that is how she feels. Until she is more mentally sound, I do not wish to risk shaking her further. She’s already very fragile.” Fenris’s words held a warning, and Jareth felt the ground shift a bit beneath him, as if the Labyrinth were trying to tell him something.

Fragile? That was impossible. The girl who had faced him at fifteen had been anything but fragile. She’d been fearless and arrogant almost to a fault. She’d stood and faced him and badmouthed his Labyrinth to his face. She’d defied him at every turn. How could she be fragile?

Then again, she’d spent some time as a guest of the Shadow Court, and they were not known for treating anyone with care. What on earth had happened to her, there?

Disgruntled, he resigned himself to accepting Fenris’s opinion of the matter for now, a frown turning down his lips. “I don’t like those in my own kingdom fearing me. Especially if she’s here under my protection from the Shadow Court.”

“Would you like me to escort her back to Marcas’s care?” Fenris’s tone was thick with sarcasm and he shot a glare towards his friend.

“Of course not. Whatever power she does or does not have can’t be used against me if she’s here. And even if the girl was right and I did hate her, I wouldn’t risk Marcas upon my worst enemy.” He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, trying to ignore his own worries for a moment. “I see you stopped in and saw Olivia when you arrived. Has she seen the girl as well?”

Fenris hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “I took Olivia to her after she healed me. All physical injuries that she sustained since her arrival have been healed. She will survive.”

Careful words that spoke of her physical condition without giving away much else. He examined the other man for a long moment before he spoke again.

“How bad was it?”

A flash of temper in Fenris’s eyes followed by regret and grief. That told him more than words ever would. His breath caught and he straightened in his chair, waiting for Fenris to decide how much he was going to actually say.

“It was bad.”

He covered his mouth, looking away, thinking for a long moment. There were a lot of ways to consider that. None of them were good. However, she was healed, and he had to concentrate on that. “I will give her a week, Fenris. After that, you must bring her to me so I can make certain that she is protected. If she keeps to the Labyrinth, there are too many hazards that can befall her. She’ll be safer at the castle.”

“I know that. I had those she trusts most from here go to her, to act as guides and caretakers as she regains her strength.”

“She doesn’t want me to know it’s hear, does she,” Jareth said, tapping his cheekbone as he considered that. It might be easier to earn her trust if he played along, he thought, frowning.

“She’d be mortified if she knew you were already aware of her presence. She might shut down further, might never finish healing from it.”

Meaning whatever Marcas had done to her was psychological, as opposed to simply physical. His blood drained from his head and he looked at his friend. “Fenris, what the hell did he do to her?”

The words were very close to a command, and they both knew it. Fenris looked at him for a long moment, and took a deep breath before he exhaled, his masks dropping. Before him was a man who had seen horrible things, nightmarish things. He’d heard rumors of what Marcas did in his court, but Fenris had actually seen what was done.

“Understand, Jareth. I will break this confidence if you command it, but it will not help you to know. Give her some time and space, and with both, she’ll tell you herself. For her to feel safe, here, she needs to think you don’t know it’s her. So, for her sake, I’m asking you to pretend. At least for now.”

Fenris bowed, again, and Jareth heaved a sigh, nodding his head. “Fine. Go clean up and rest, your full report can wait until after that. I wasn’t joking when I said you reek. You’ve got the smell of the trash heaps and the bog hanging on you. Go.”

The warrior straightened, eyeing him for a moment before he turned, leaving the room. 

He heaved a sigh once he was gone, his temper scraping at him. His foot bounced as he sat there, and after a few minutes, he sprung to his feet, pacing the room. Flicking his wrist, he glared at the crystal that now rested on his fingers. As every other time, all that was revealed was a still body laying on a hospital bed. Toby was curled up, sleeping on the bed. The goblin, Boing, hovered at her bedside, keeping watch over things.

If there was a change, his goblin would alert him. It was still frustrating that he couldn’t view her in the crystal, here. He wasn’t certain what magic Marcas had used to get his hands on her, and he didn’t like that in the slightest. Whatever had been done, it kept him from checking her condition.

That wasn’t something that had mattered to him, before, if he was honest. He’d been annoyed that he’d lost the child, but he had always admitted that she’d defeated him, soundly. He’d stolen time from her, fed her enchanted food, and she’d fought back at every turn. He admired that about her. He suspected that she’d been fighting against Marcas the same way.

What had the bastard done that could break a will that strong?

The fact that he couldn’t figure out something told him, as usual, that Marcas’s twisted mind was something he didn’t understand, and he really didn’t ever want to. If he could break a woman as willful and stubborn as Sarah -

He paused, realizing he’d thought her name. He’d been careful, up to this point, to avoid that. However, Marcas didn’t crash into his castle, so he presumed that the bastard didn’t know what her name was. Thank the stars for small blessings, he thought. Either Fenris had warned her against giving her name, or she’d remembered her fairy stories well enough to not do it, herself.

After pacing for some time, he took a moment to wonder what name she’d give him when they next met.

He’d give it some time before he went and turned the girl’s world upside down, he decided. But he wasn’t going to tolerate someone in his own kingdom - a refugee, as it were - being afraid of him. Especially not her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and the kudos thus far.


	7. Acclimation

Jareth had watched her as she started to reacquaint herself with the Labyrinth and it’s creatures living within its walls. He hadn’t approached her, yet. Instead, he kept an eye on her, trying to figure out what it was about the girl that had made her a target. He’d watched the first foray into the walls, when something had made her scream and run, terrified back to the room that she’d made her own. He didn’t know what had caused that, but she’d spun around, turning from side to side, before running back into that room. Once she’d reached it, she’d lay on the floor, shaking and sobbing. 

After the initial report, Fenris had given him no further information, and when he’d asked Olivia what the extent of her injuries had been, the rage he’d seen in the healer’s eyes made him afraid of whatever the truth of it was. So, he hadn’t asked further, had simply kept a quiet watch over her. At night, he would venture down and keep watch over her while she slept. He never entered the room - that wasn’t his place. Still, she was under his protection, and he allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that he was concerned.

He could see, now, what Fenris had meant when he’d called her fragile.

If he was tied up with his own responsibilities, he’d send a goblin to watch over her in his stead. More than once he’d been informed that she was having terrible nightmares. He’d only seen the result of those, once, when she woke screaming until her voice was hoarse and painful. Other nights, she would just wrap her arms around herself and rock back and forth, and refuse to sleep altogether.

He decided that wasn’t good for her, and within days of watching over her, he spoke to Olivia about something that would give the girl dreamless sleep. His inquiries had resulted in his healer giving him a look of speculation that he didn’t like. He didn’t know how to word that the girl’s well being was the responsibility of the goblin kingdom, and hence, his responsibility. In keeping with his decision to not approach her, at least until she was more stable, he ensured that the potions came from either Fenris or Sir Didymus. He also ensured that their duties didn’t overlap in such a way that either the knight, spy, or gardener would be available to make certain she ate regularly.

They didn’t question his edicts in the matter, but they also wore that look of speculation that he’d seen before on Olivia’s face. Since none of them questioned him, he could ignore his own reasons for it, for now. He could ignore the fact that underground politics may have ruined this girl’s life. That her ill-thought wish back then had ruined her life.

He continued to receive daily reports from Boing from the above. The goblin told him that Toby still visited Sarah’s bedside, daily. The first report had come shortly after Fenris had reported in, and the excitable goblin told him that Sarah had flatlined on the table, almost a day prior. She’d almost died, and Boing told him that he’d felt the connection between her spirit and body break.

There was no clear explanation for it, at least not in the above. He suspected that Olivia might be able to explain what happened, but the healer refused to even discuss it with him. She’d only told him that if she and Marcas were ever in the same space, she would rip him apart, and she wouldn’t bother using her powers to do it. The rage in her eyes was something he remembered seeing there when she’d first come to the Goblin Kingdom from the Summer Courts. She’d never told him what had been done to her, there. He’d never tried to push her to tell him why she’d run to the Goblin Kingdom seeking asylum. But the shadows he sometimes saw in her eyes told him too much, and whatever had happened had been bad.

Since the look in her eyes was so familiar, he knew whatever cruelty had been visited upon Sarah must have been equally as bad. Olivia was not typically a wrathful person, and for such rage to be incited in her and Fenris, he knew that they held secrets regarding what had happened.

A sigh escaped him and he massaged his temples, contemplating the calendar in front of him. It had been almost a month since her initial arrival in the Underground. He’d only let it go on so long, because he could see how fearful she was. However, she was growing more confident in her wanderings, though she never revealed herself. During the day he could keep watch on her with the lichen that were throughout the structure, but as long as she was in the room, there was no such ability. 

When she ventured out, first with her knights, and the longer she was there, on her own until she went out for meandering walks every day, but always in a full disguise. That she feared him so deeply that she would hide her identity annoyed him, especially since he was doing everything in his power to ensure she was cared for. Still, the distance limited his ability to protect her, and he couldn’t do anything about that as long as he wasn’t in contact with her.

It would have to end, and soon.

Which left him with one option. He was going to have to approach the girl and force her to accept the new reality of her life, here. It would have been easier, he thought, if Fenris had brought her to him in the first place. However, since he had not, that left him with few options. So, how to do that, without scaring her out of her wits?

Pushing a hand through his hair, he leaned back in the chair at the modest desk in his private study. Then, a smirk spread across his face and he got to his feet, moving across the office to the side door that led into his bedroom. Opening his wardrobe, he shifted through his clothes, finding a particular costume that he hadn’t pulled out in years. A hat with a half-mask, something that if he crouched, made him look like any other goblin in the Labyrinth.

The girl was searching for her strength, again. Perhaps it would be best to remind her of simpler times, first.

He drew the costume from the depths, placing the half maks and hat on, his devilish smirk barely hidden. He considered himself for a long moment, and then snapped a finger as he took the hat and mask off.

Spurgus popped out of nowhere, looking up at him with wide eyes and a mischievous grin. “You-a call?”

“Spurgus, tonight, you’re to get the message out. Tomorrow, we’ll be having a guest at the castle.” Jareth grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

He watched as that toothy smile widened, and excitement filled its big, watery eyes. How curious. “It’s Lady Champion, isn’t it!”

The immediate understanding and excitement that the creature felt was a bit of a surprise. Jareth considered it for a long moment, and then lifted a brow. “I can’t say, Spurgus. After all, no one seems to wish to tell me. Perhaps once our guest arrives, we’ll have more answers.”

Spurgus gave a high-pitched giggle, and took off towards the door, running into it before he seemed to remember that he had to open it. Then, he bounded down the hall and out of sight. For some time, Jareth could still hear the sounds of his giggles and curses when he’d crash into things in the hallway. When the crashes died down, he just shook his head, a smirk curving his lips. 

She’d had enough time to acclimate to the Goblin Kingdom, he decided. It was time that she understood that her life was in his hands, now.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

After arriving in the Labyrinth, Sarah had stopped having the dream where she was in the hospital. She wasn’t sure if that was from the Labyrinth’s magic, or if something else had happened. However, losing that connection to her brother had broken her heart. The morning she realized she couldn’t see him in her dreams, she curled up on the bed and cried. She knew that crying wouldn’t fix it, but she had too many emotions to keep bottling them up.

It didn’t help that when those dreams left, nightmares took their place. Flashbacks to the car crash and what had happened the last night she was under Marcus’s cruelty, before she left the shadow court. Both ended with her waking up screaming. Several nights, she refused to sleep altogether, not wanting those memories to plague her. She knew that physically she needed rest, but she felt like she was going to break every time she screamed awake from the dreams.

Hoggle and Didymus tried to stay with her, but they couldn’t stay at night. They had their own duties to deal with, regardless, and she wouldn’t risk them drawing Jareth’s ire. At first, when she was alone, she tried to wander the Labyrinth and reacquaint herself with the structure. The first time, however, she didn’t get far outside the safety of the room when she heard those crashing sounds again.

First behind her, then left, then right, then that crunch. She still didn’t know where those sounds were coming from. She’d hoped they were just something from being at the Shadow court. Them plaguing her here resulted in her abandoning her endeavor, and fleeing back to the room of broken dreams, screaming and crying. Once she was back in the room, the sounds stopped, and she lay on the ground, sobbing and trying to get herself under control. After that, if she tried to leave the room, she waited until Hoggle or Didymus could walk with her. Occasionally, Fenris would come down from the castle and check on her, but she had the feeling that he didn’t like whatever he saw.

Still, there was a silver lining. She hadn’t come across Jareth in the time she’d been here, so it seemed that Fenris hadn’t told him that she was here. It came as a relief. She didn’t want to face him. At this point, she wasn’t certain if that was because she was afraid he would judge her, or because she feared he would hurt her.

She wasn’t the same person she’d been at fifteen, when she’d first run the Labyrinth. That was true, even before she’d been dragged back to the Underground. She wasn’t certain she could bear to see the pity on his face, in addition to the faces of her friends. There was a part of her that never wanted him to know what had happened to her. He’d laugh, she thought, that she’d fallen so far. That she was so broken that she couldn’t stand on her own, anymore.

Though she’d been healed, and was grateful for it, she couldn’t move far past the comfort that she found in the room of broken dreams. When she did leave, it was in full “goblin costume”. It had taken a little while to cobble the disguise together. They found her a half-mask with horns and a hooked nose, some clothes other than the white shift she’d arrived wearing. They were rough items, but they were clean, and they weren’t the clothing she’d been -

She stopped that line of thought, whenever it happened. She didn’t even want to think of the word, because if she did, that would make what happened real.

Today, she wanted to go out, on her own, to not worry about the fear she felt every time she stepped out alone. She couldn’t just be attached at the coat-tails of her friends forever. Especially if she was ever going to get home.

Not that she knew if that would ever happen. She still didn’t know if she was even really alive, there.

Her terror stopped her, as it always did, at the crack in the wall. She didn’t like that crack, it made her feel like something was watching her, and that always made her anxiety worse. Part of that fear was why when she usually went out, it was with Sir Didymus, Hoggle, or Ludo. Occasionally, Fenris would coax her out for a walk after ensuring she ate something.

The feeling of being watched was far worse whenever she left the room, as if it was the only place where she was hidden from prying eyes. Still, whoever was watching her seemed to hold no malice towards her. It had taken her almost a week after that first attempt to leave the room and take a brief walk on her own.

That first walk had been a victory. It had left her trembling and terrified when she’d finally bolted back to her room. It was like she couldn’t feel safe outside of these familiar walls.

It was a foolish way to feel, and she knew it. Here, even in her room, she was at risk of being discovered by the Goblin King, and she knew that he would make what Marcas had done seem like a gentle tap. At least she thought he would. He had no reason at all to offer her any protection, here. Hell, if he discovered her, he’d probably turn her out of the Labyrinth altogether, away from the only friends she had, here.

Still, regardless of the foolishness, as she ventured out, she found that she felt increasingly safe there. She found that the watchful eyes of the lichen that covered the walls followed her, but there was no malice in their gaze. Every day, she tried to venture further, until she was surprised to find herself on the edge of the fiery forest.

The fireys were having a twisted version of a tea party, one of them acting as a table, the others sitting around laughing, the table’s head sitting on it’s stomach and laughing with them.

She hesitated at the edge of that forest, remembering when they’d tried to pull her head off. However, before her fear could overwhelm her, they noticed her, and looked at her in shocked surprise. Silence had reigned for a moment, before one of them picked up their table’s head and tossed it to her.

She gave a surprised shriek as she caught it, and stared at it for a long moment, then looked at them. They looked at her with expectation, waiting. She hesitated for a moment, and then tossed the head back to them. A laugh escaped them, and they started tossing the head between them, and eventually back to her.

Her initial reaction changed as the game went on, a laugh startled out of her, and she paused, holding the head, when she realized what happened. Still, she rejoined the game, laughing and tossing the head around with them. After the game ended, she lay on the forest floor with them, staring up at the treetops, realizing they hadn’t touched her. They didn’t even try to.

“You remember when we tried to take your head off?” One of the red creatures asked. It was laying near her, relaxing as the others still laughed and occasionally tossed a random body part across the clearing.

She paused, looking towards them, startled. That was her first realization that they knew who she was. “You recognize me?”

It looked towards her, mischief in it’s big eyes. “Hard not to. Even with a goblin mask, you didn’t immediately join the game. His highness came by, after your run, you know?”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I didn’t know that.”

“He wanted us to know that humans' heads didn’t come off like ours did, and that it was bad manners to try to take it if we hadn’t asked first.”

Something about that made her laugh a bit. It was a surreal thing to learn. After several long moments, she turned and looked at the Fiery beside her. “Please don’t tell him that I’m here.”

It gave her a look that was all mischief and good nature, even though it’s grin was mildly unsettling. “We won’t say a word. The thing about any of the Goblin creatures in the Labyrinth, if they don’t tend to volunteer information. If we aren’t asked directly or if it’s not related to the safety of the kingdom, we won’t say a word.”

“You get away with that?” She wondered.

“It’s more expected. Knowing the right questions to ask is important in this place. If you don’t ask smart questions, you end up lost, perhaps forever. Like the doorways of truth and lies.”

“That didn’t end too well for me. Even though I thought I asked the right question.”

“You did ask the right question. But even the right question can’t always help in a place that changes so much. It’s a game, you know? The whole thing. It’s meant to be daunting, even scary. Most give up long before they get to the castle. Everyone has their role to play, even the king. But the Labyrinth isn’t the same when there isn’t a runner. And neither is the king.”

She lay there for a long time, remembering Fenris’s few words about the Goblin King. The spy didn’t speak of the king often, because he knew she was terrified of him. It was something she appreciated. The few things he’d said were about when Fenris had first come to the Labyrinth, how Jareth had saved him from slavery or execution.

Funny, that the pictures his subjects painted of the Goblin King weren’t ones she recognized from her own experiences. Then again, she’d only known him as the antagonist in the story.

She returned to her room that night, thinking there were reasons she couldn’t count on the picture she painted. She was different. She wasn’t his subject. She was just a stupid girl who had made a wish she regreted. He had to have hated that he lost to her, and would probably love having her at his mercy.

By the end of the first month she’d been there, she had wandered more of the structure than she’d seen during her first trip. She ran across the wise man, the doors of truth and lies, the knockers, and eventually, even Mr. Worm. None of them reacted to her as they had when she was a runner, because there was no need to delay or mislead her. The further she traveled, the more stories she heard of the king, as well. Everyone seemed to be aware that she was the previous runner, and recognized her, somehow. That frightened her, but they all promised her that they would not tell their king of her presence to the king. It left her wondering why they made such a promise to her.

And it left her wondering what she would do when he inevitably caught her and realized who she was. After all, if everyone else recognized her, and realized who she was, there was no way he wouldn’t.


	8. The Labyrinthian Refugee

Fenris woke to the sound of furious movement in his room and he jolted in fear. Even years since he’d been on the run, unexpected sounds still had that effect on him. It took a moment before he recognized the sounds. A mortar and pestle, crushing herbs. There was also the soft sound of a feminine voice counting, and the bubble of a potion.

Olivia had woken up at some point and was working at the small station he’d put in his room for her.

He lay there for a long moment before he caught the other sound he hadn’t quite heard under the sounds of her working. Soft, hitching breaths. The occasional, quiet whimper. Sobs that she couldn’t quite muffle.

If he hadn’t heard that, he might have gone back to sleep. Instead, he rolled off the bed, wrapping the sheet around his shoulders to ward off the chill in the air. He found her standing at the small work table that was wedged against the small wall, almost too big to fit in the small room. He could see her shoulders were shaking with the force of the sobs she was trying to hide. A soft sigh escaped him and he walked towards her, wrapping his arms and the sheet around her bare shoulders.

She went still and stiff for a moment, and then he felt her relax before she turned so her face was pressed against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The words were whispered against his skin and he threaded a hand through her thick auburn hair, holding her close. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against the crown of her head. “You should have woken me when you did. You didn’t need to stay alone with your thoughts.”

She nodded, and he felt her arms lift around him, holding on so hard that he felt his ribs ache. He could feel the moisture of her tears on his chest and for a long moment, he just stood there holding her in silence. Then, he turned the burner off, scooped her up, and carried her back to the bed, sitting down with her cuddled on his lap. She clung to him the whole way, her face pressed against his neck. He could hear the hitch in her breaths, still.

It took time, but eventually the storm inside of her had died down a little and she gave a quiet sigh. He stroked her back over the sheet, drawing back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes wouldn’t quite meet his own. 

“It was just a dream, again. The same sort I used to have, after I ran from the summer court. I hadn’t had one in so long, it just -” she stopped herself, and seemed to struggle with words. “I guess something is triggering them, again.”

He considered that for a long moment, still stroking his fingers over her hair. “Something meaning Sarah?”

She nodded, and he felt the sigh that escaped her. “You and I both know how hard it can be to come back from something like that. Not just the torture or emotional scarring. I’m worried that Jareth will push her too fast.”

Fenris shifted so that he leaned back against the headboard, considering that for a moment. Olivia just curled against him and looked up at his face, waiting in silence.

“I can understand that worry. But I think Jareth is a lot better at understanding how much he can push a person before he needs to stop. He’s better at reading people than most. The first day, he said he’d drag her to the castle in a week. It’s been a month, now and he hasn’t done that.”

“But will he understand why he shouldn’t push her? And will their history blind him?”

That was the real question, wasn’t it. Jareth had been willing to cut her loose, to get him out of the Shadow Kingdom. Still, since they’d arrived, he seemed intrigued by the girl. Fenris couldn’t remember much of his own first weeks in the Labyrinth, and he wasn’t here for Olivia’s. He hadn’t seen Jareth with such a vested interest in any refugee before. It could be impossible to tell with the Goblin King.

He didn’t exactly volunteer information unless he saw some benefit to himself.

Fenris took Olivia’s hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the inside of her wrist. He still hadn’t figured out how to answer those questions, yet, so he gave the only answer he had.

“Love, we can’t know how either will react until they actually meet again. So all we can do is hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

When Sarah left her room that morning, she almost turned around and went back in, immediately.

It felt almost as if the Labyrinth was holding its breath in anticipation. Like it was waiting for something. That scared her, because she didn’t know what it might be waiting for.

Lately, her dreams had gotten worse. Yesterday, Sir Didymus had brought her a potion that was familiar. Fenris had given her two doses of it when she had first left the Shadow Court. It had given her a peaceful, dreamless sleep, then. In her exhaustion, the potion had resulted in her sleeping longer than normal, last night, and she’d woken to find the sun well up into the sky.

She felt rested, and that was wonderful, but the way the ground seemed to almost vibrate in excitement confused and frightened her. It made her want to avoid people, so she made a split second decision, walking at a brisk pace to a place she’d avoided so far. The oubliette. She knew how to get there without dealing with the helping hands, now, because of how she’d left it before.

So when she reached the courtyard, she went down the circular hold and into the dark of the tunnels. The dark was comfortable, right then, and let her feel hidden. The sense of anticipation felt muted compared to how it felt on the surface.

She hesitated for a moment before leaving the room, keeping an ear out for the sound of slashing blades. The cleaners were the only thing she was worried about, down here. That could change, and she knew it. She just hoped that she didn’t end up hearing the crashing noises, again.

Her feet led her unerringly, deeper into the tunnels until she could hear the words of the false alarms, though they sounded like they were just telling bawdy jokes amongst themselves. She felt a smile curve her lips, heading that way, but she stopped when a crystal rolled from behind her towards the direction she was walking. It startled a scream out of her, and she clasped her hands over her mouth, jumping back a step. 

The crystal seemed to pause in the middle of the poorly lit corridor, as if it waited for her to follow it. Every cell in her body seemed to be screaming for her to run in the other direction, but she couldn’t help but step towards it. As she did, it rolled further away from her. She swallowed hard, feeling herself trembling in fear.

Every time she stopped moving, it would go still, waiting until she continued to move again. Her whole body was quaking in terror, but she couldn’t look away from that perfect sphere of crystal. When she saw it head towards the form leaning against the wall, she froze, looking at him for a long time. Her hands went towards her mask, because for a moment, she’d forgotten it was there. She stood with her back against the wall and watched as the figure leaned down to pick up the crystal.

Spellbound as she’d been years ago, she watched as he slid it up over his hand until it came to rest on his fingers. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him any better than she’d ever been able to. His hair was still wild around his head, and she noticed with a start he was only a bit taller than she was, now.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

His voice was just as she remembered it, and she wondered for a moment how she could have thought that night was just a dream. A shiver worked its way up her spine and she tried to back further into the shadows as much as she could. She could feel herself hunching in, trying to hide. Her fear had caused that hunch she walked with, now, but recently it had eased. Her voice caught in her throat and she clutched the front of the grubby cream cotton blouse she wore - clothing that Hoggle and Didymus had found for her since what she’d worn from the shadow kingdom was in tatters.

“Well? Are you a mute?” He asked, and his head inclined as he looked towards her. She noticed that his eyes were blue. Why had she forgotten that?

“N-no,” she stuttered. She wasn’t certain how she got that answer out. The word seemed to stick in her throat. It would have been easier to pretend that she was a mute, she supposed, but she wasn’t certain how long she could fake that.

He moved in the dim tunnel towards her, his skin illuminated as if to spite the darkness around them. A strange twist in her chest startled her. It was somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. His hair was wild, his eyes piercing. Back then, she had known he wasn’t human. However, she was older, now and noticed things she hadn’t when she was younger. Her eyes drank in his appearance, the dark leather coat that hugged his trim physique down to the tops of the matching boots. They strayed, for a moment, towards his hips and something she’d noticed at fifteen caught her gaze again. Fear and fascination caught hold of her, followed swiftly by nausea as she remembered what happened in the Shadow Court.

She turned away from him, trembling harder.

“Fenris told me he’d brought a refugee in from the Shadow Kingdom.” The words caused a chill to crawl up her back and she wondered if that was why everyone knew who she was. Had Fenris been forced to tell who she was? “He was supposed to bring you to the castle the day you arrived. Introductions are only proper, after all. If you’re here for asylum, having you live in the squalor of the trash heaps hardly reflects well upon me.”

She saw him pace around her and she turned away again, not wanting him to take the mask from her. It hit her suddenly, that she wasn’t afraid of anything more than the idea of seeing pity on his face. Tears welled in her eyes and she clutched the collar of her shirt at her neck. “I don’t want to be in the way or a burden. I-I’m fine living in the Labyrinth.”

There was a moment of silence and she wondered if she’d dreamed everything, right then. The sound of a boot on the dirt drew her attention back to him and she turned her head to find him standing much closer to her. Fear knifed through her and she stumbled back, raising her arms to defend herself as she fell onto the dirt. She turned her face away from him, one hand holding the mask in place, the other trying to shield herself from his gaze.

She couldn’t see his expression clearly in the dark, but something about the way he was looking at her troubled her. After a moment, he crouched down in front of her and she cringed back.

“What should I call you?”

She blinked and her hands lowered, confusion filling her as she looked up at him. “You...don’t know?”

“Everyone has been being very mysterious about everything involving you. Not even the healer who saw to your injuries will tell me the full extent of them. Very rude of them, to not give their king such basic information. It’s almost a pity that they’re invaluable to the kingdom. So it falls on you to tell me what I should call you.”

Fenris hadn’t told him, she realized, and she straightened a bit, looking at the king that was looking at her in the dark. His pupils reflected the faint light just a bit, she noted and she bit her lower lip hard.

“If I tell you my name, it’ll give you power over me.” The words were choked out, still strangling her from fear.

“Girl, I already have power over you. You’re here under my protection, whether you like that or not. Now, tell me what to call you.” His voice sounded short, as if annoyed.

She paused, a frown pulling at her lip. She realized after a moment that he hadn’t demanded her name. Not really. Just what he should call her. Her hands trembled as she looked at the reflective pupils, still holding the neck of the shirt she wore in a death grip.

“Goblinskin,” she said, after a long moment. “You can call me Goblinskin.”

“There,” he said, and she saw a smirk curve his thin lips. The lighting made his face seem more sinister for the smirk on it. “The ground didn’t swallow you up and you haven’t fallen over dead from meeting me and giving that much. You’ll join me at the castle, now. The Goblin City doesn’t have use for those who don’t put hard work into it, refugee or not. So we will discuss what talents you may have and see what sort of work would suit you.”

“You won’t -” she stopped herself, hands slapping over her mouth and a shiver of fear wracked her body.

He was half-way to his feet and he turned towards her, his blond hair backlit into a halo around his head. “I won’t what?”

It was hard to get the words out. But she could remember what the others had said about him, about how he was as a king and a person when he wasn’t the antagonist. “You won’t hurt me? You won’t touch me?”

Surprise on his face, then lightning flashed in those eyes for a moment. She couldn’t be certain if he was angry or insulted by the implication that he’d cause her harm. 

“Goblinskin,” he said, and his voice was firm. “The Goblin City is separate from the courts, which is why I end up with refugees. It’s a neutral place from the machinations of the other ruling powers. Fenris came to me as a refugee from the Winter Court. Does he look as though I’ve caused him harm? I see little point in harming those who serve me.”

She felt tears well in her eyes as she remembered her first night in the Shadow Court and how the following morning, Marcas had brought her the heads of his own servants. She remembered every punishment for her defiance, even the time she hadn’t been intending to defy him. A sob caught in her chest and she lowered her face so the Goblin King couldn’t see hers. Even the time she’d been accused of attempting to escape, even though she hadn’t been, because Fenris had promised to help her leave. She could feel his hands, where they’d stopped prior to breaking her ribs, and she almost slipped into a flashback before the smooth voice of the Goblin King broke through her thoughts.

“I can tell that you’ve been through a lot, girl. I’ll not insult you by telling you that you don’t need to be afraid of me. However, bravery isn’t a lack of fear, but rather, it’s action in spite of it. All I ask is that you have courage.” His tone was gentle, she noted, as he said those words.

Blinking back her tears, she lifted her face to look at him. His head was inclined as if he were considering her and as she looked at him, he offered her a hand to pull herself to her feet. He didn’t grab her or reach for her. She swallowed, hard, staring at the extended hand for a long moment. Her own shook like a leaf as she lifted it, setting it on his and used the stability he offered to pull herself to her feet.

Once she was upright, the sound around her changed and she lifted her eyes to look at him, wondering why. She found them standing, now, at the entrance to the Goblin City.

She gave a startled yelp, almost stumbling back, again, but the hand that still held hers kept her on her feet. Her free hand slapped over her mouth, as if it was to keep the sound in.

She’d forgotten he could do that.

She clung to that hand for a moment, until she was certain that she wasn’t going to fall on her backside again. When she withdrew her hand, he didn’t try to keep it. She appreciated that. He regarded her for a long moment as if trying to read her, then he turned towards the massive doors that led into the city. As he did, the brickwork closed, removing the doorway that would have let them through.

She blinked, startled by that as well, and she looked towards him in confusion. “Why did that happen?”

He didn’t answer her for a long moment, just regarding the wall before them before he turned towards her. There was something not unlike amusement in his expression. In the bright daylight, she found herself reminded that he was a painfully beautiful man. “It would seem that someone is wanting for us to take a longer route to the castle.”

She felt her brow furrow beneath the mouth and she inclined her head in confusion. “Who?”

“The Labyrinth, of course,” he said, and cast a glance around them before he turned, starting to walk along the wall. “It has a mind of its own, and no one who it doesn’t like or trust will make it to the center of the Labyrinth without invitation.”

She considered him for a moment, pausing before she started after him. “I didn’t notice that since I’ve been here. It hasn’t been changing while I’ve been wandering it.”

He glanced towards her, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “It wouldn’t change to befuddle someone who isn’t either a runner or means to harm the kingdom. It’s quite good at reading people. Also, it seems to like you.”

She watched as he changed his direction, his steps leading him away from her, along the outer wall of the city. She stared up at the wall that had sprung up in front of them and took a step towards her. She lifted her hand, resting her fingertips against it, considering what he’d said.

Not just a magical maze that changed constantly. A mind of its own implied that it was sentient. Alive. And he said it liked her.

A smile curved her lips, and then she remembered that she was supposed to be following the Goblin King and turned. She found him standing not far away, watching her with a bemused smile on his face. She dropped her hand, embarrassed for a moment that he’d seen her like that, and then moved to follow him.

“What do you mean by it likes me?”

“It didn’t let you wander astray, didn’t change its walls or paths behind your back to trap you. The ground didn’t open up beneath you as you wandered, or drop you into an oubliette. It protected you, though you weren’t aware of it.” His words were matter of fact. “I suspect it's been waiting for you to notice it since your arrival.”

“It didn’t speak to me, so how could I realize -” She stopped herself, thinking hard for a moment. “That’s why it changed, right now, isn’t it? So you’d tell me?”

“You’re a quick study,” he said and she thought she heard approval in his voice.

Something about that made her chest ache, twisting hard, and she lowered her head. After a moment, she stepped closer to the wall, again, trailing her fingers along the stone. A small smile curved her lips. It felt strange, foreign, to be smiling and she shook herself after a moment, thinking that she knew better than to trust the king. He was fae, that meant he was like -

Nausea overwhelmed her and she set a hand over her stomach, her steps faltering. She felt the fear she’d been living with since her arrival in the Underground start to overwhelm her. Then, just as the nausea started to subside, a loud crash sounded behind her and she whirled to look and see if she could find where it was coming from, now.

“No,” she whispered, backing away from the sound. “Please, no.” She took another step back, waiting for the next crash.

“Goblinskin?”

His voice saying the name she’d chosen for herself startled her and she whirled back towards him. His eyes were sharp on her and she felt herself trembling. She wondered if she could shake apart. She shook her head, taking a step back from him, before another crash sounded behind her. She screamed, covering her ears and dropped where she stood, curling in on herself.

Her fear was choking her, strangling her with every second. Tears filled her eyes and started pouring down her face, even though the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t. She didn’t want him to know the broken girl before him was the one who had beaten him so few years ago. As the next crash happened, she yelped, unable to contain the sound, and she clasped her hands over her ears, sobbing.

“Please, no…”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth heard the whimpered plea and turned to find that she wasn’t facing towards him. He could see that her body was shaking harder than before.

Sweet mercy, what had happened to her, he wondered, and stepped towards her. It took effort to not use the name he had known her by. Still, he managed to use the name she’d given him, today. “Goblinskin?”

She turned towards him and her pupils were like dinner plates, dilated, her eyes as wide as they’d open. He could see fears falling from under her mask. Then, she gave a scream and dropped to the ground, curling in on herself. Her hands were clamped over her ears as if she were trying to keep a sound from reaching them. However, besides her ragged breaths and quiet shrieks, there wasn’t a sound he could hear.

After a moment, he stepped towards her and dropped down so he was at her level. He examined her face, twisted in fear and pain under the mask she wore, and set his hands over her own. Slowly, he pulled her hands from over her ears, holding them in his hands until her face slowly lifted and looked at him. Even when she’d realized he was real and had taken her brother, she hadn’t looked so frightened. He didn’t ask what was wrong, because whatever it was he didn’t think he could fix it.

As he watched, she shook her head, over and over, as if she was trying to deny something. Her breaths were coming too fast for her to possibly get enough air or calm down. Her eyes were fixed on his face and he met her gaze, looking into her eyes. Some instinct had him stroke the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

“Close your eyes and listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.”

After a long moment, her eyes fell closed and she continued sucking in breaths as if she was starving for air. If it continued, she’d pass out, and that would put a quick end to whatever talk they might have. He didn’t release her hands, and noted that hers were clinging to them. He stared at them for a moment, surprised. Then, he shook off the feeling, speaking to her with quiet calm, ignoring his own disquiet.

“You need to listen to me. Take a deep breath in. Slowly, Goblinskin. Slowly. Until you can’t get any more air in.” He watched as she did, keeping his attention focused on her. “Hold it. Hold it. And now, you’re going to let it out. Slow and easy.”

Her eyes opened as she exhaled, looking at her and there was still fear in her eyes. Fear and confusion that was deeper than he’d seen before. Again, he wondered what the hell had happened to her.

“Good girl. Do it again. Deep breath in, nice and slow.”

As she did, he kept coaching her until her breaths steadied and her eyes focused. She still kept taking those slow breaths as she looked around them, still shaking, but not hyperventilating, now. Then, her eyes found his hands and hers holding tight onto his.

Her own shock was greater than his, and her hands sprang open before she drew them to her chest, curling them into fists.

“Are you back from wherever you were?” He noticed she was even less willing to look at him now than she’d been before her fit. He got back to his feet, shaking himself for a moment, his hand flexing a bit. It felt oddly chilled now that hers wasn’t clinging to it. He pushed that thought from his mind, turning to lean against the wall outside the city. Drawing a cigarette case from the inner pocket of his coat, he set it between his lips and lit it. As he took a long drag from it to settle his own nerves, the scent of cloves filled the air.

He was careful to not look at her as she gathered herself. When she finally got to her feet, he turned his gaze back towards her. She was looking at him, her expression wary, nervous.

“You couldn’t hear it. Could you.”

Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, and he noticed it sounded thin from the fear in it. Tilting his head back, he blew a plume of smoke into the air and considered the question for a long moment. “I don’t know what you heard that frightened you so. And no, whatever it was, I didn’t hear it.”

The girl scoffed, but it wasn’t aimed at his answer. The sound was bitter and humourless and he didn’t like it. He lifted the cigarette, again, considering her as she straightened and turned her eyes towards him. There was grief and pain, there, those green eyes pinning him. They were dark and murky from the emotions boiling in them.

“So, I’m just imagining it, then. It’s not real, it’s just in my damn -” She stopped herself, her hands pressing back into her dark hair and curling so hard that he knew her scalp must be screaming in pain. As he blew more sweetly scented smoke in the air, he gave her a smile that he knew was on the edge of patronizing.

“It’s in your head, perhaps. But since when does that mean something isn’t real?” Her incredulous expression almost made him laugh. It reminded him of when she faced off against him and he smirked at her, lifting the cigarette again and breathing deeply. “Plenty of things exist in our heads, as opposed to in the physical realm. Just because you can hear it and I can’t doesn’t mean that it isn’t a real thing you’re experiencing. It just means that I can’t experience it.”

She paused, her surprise evident and she took a moment to consider what he’d said. Then, her eyes narrowed at him. “Are you mocking me?”

He held his cigarette between two fingers, flicking the ash to the ground and grinned, considering her. “Goblinskin,” he finally said and saw her jerk at the name, as if she’d forgotten that she’d given it to him. “You’re standing in a realm that most people would consider to be ‘just in your head’. Does that mean the things you’ve experienced here haven’t been real? Does it mean that those who reside here, myself included, aren’t real?

That knocked her further off stride and she lowered her face so he couldn’t see her eyes any longer. She seemed to be standing straighter, now, the hunch from before smoothing out. She didn’t answer him for a long moment and when she did, it was quiet. “What if this is all just a dream? How are dreams real?”

He laughed again, and felt a rumble from the ground. He set a hand against the wall behind him and used it to balance as he straightened, moving towards her. He stopped right in front of her, lifting a brow. “Dreams are the experience of a single person, that most times others cannot experience alongside them. Humans often consider this place a realm of dreams. And I do promise you, me and mine are quite real. As is every other creature in the Underground. Writing things like this off as a dream, and as such not real, is a human response to things they cannot explain. I feel no such urge. Now, if you’ve collected yourself and are ready to move along, we really should go to the castle.”

When he turned to continue along, she stepped towards him and to his surprise, started walking beside him. Poor manners, he thought at first, but considering how terrified she had been only a few minutes he decided to overlook it. It wasn’t as if he had a kingdom of the best behaved creatures, as it was. His healer and master of the guard often referred to him by first name without any honorific at all. The goblins had no decorum whatsoever. If he was honest, he preferred it that way. 

Could he really demand politeness and propriety from her when the example his kingdom set was borderline anarchy? So, instead, he just continued forward, noting that the Labyrinth was either toying with him or trying to protect her. He didn’t like to make demands of it. The reason the two of them had such an easy relationship was because he didn’t try to force his will upon it. Still, after heading towards the next door and finding another wall, a quiet growl escaped him.

“Is something wrong?” She sounded like her fear was getting the better of her, again, and he took a moment to get control of his temper. After that, he glanced over at her, finding her clutching the collar of her shirt, again.

“There is usually a door here, as well. My Labyrinth appears to have either moved it or removed it.” He felt the growl in his voice and saw surprised confusion on the girl’s face. “I think it’s playing with me. Here.”

He extended his hand towards her and watched her as she stared at it as if it would grow teeth and bite her. Then, her hand came to rest upon his, again. He could feel how hard she was trembling from the light hold he placed on it. Her eyes met his and when they did, he transported them then. As disorienting as it could be, if the Labyrinth was playing with him, this way was safer. He moved them directly into his formal office and once he was certain they’d both arrived in one piece, he released her hand and snapped his fingers.

A tall, rotund goblin appeared immediately, her wild curls hanging half way down her back. She looked around, and when she saw Sarah, she almost rushed the girl. He reached down and caught her shirt, lifting her up with one arm, turning her until she faced him.

“Gurdy, see to it that a tea tray is brought here, and make certain that there will be a room available for our guest to rest in.”

“I would feel more comfortable sleeping in the room I’ve been using -”

He expected the objection. He set the goblin down and watched her rush out the door before giving his attention to the girl standing near him. He could see the faint hint of defiance in those eyes and it gave him an unexpected rush of something. Either pleasure or excitement, he wasn’t certain which.

“Goblinskin,” he began, pacing towards her, knowing his voice sounded a bit too tart to be patient. “Is there a shower in that room? A toilet, perhaps? A wash basin or sink?”

He saw a flush light up her cheeks and she quickly lowered her eyes. That was certainly answer enough. When he was sure she wasn’t going to answer him, he continued.

“Even if you spend every night sleeping in the room in the trash heaps, you will have a room available to you here to use to freshen up, with clean clothing and a place to sleep that is inside of the castle.”

She lifted her face after a few moments, looking at him. Her defiance was gone, and in its place was confusion. He noted that her hands still trembled, had been since he’d first seen her. He knew well enough the signs of someone who had been in a battle. What the hell had happened to her during the brief time she was in the Shadow Courts that would result in this? Or was it before that?

After a long moment, she nodded her head and he saw her curl in on herself from her fear, once again. He felt another strange, unexpected sensation - one of disappointment - that he pushed aside. He gestured for her to have a seat in one of the high backed chairs on the less formal side of his office and waited until she complied. Once she was seated, he took the chair across from her, leaning back in it, considering the girl who sat there, features hidden behind a gruesome mask.

And he found himself hoping that she wasn’t too shattered to heal from whatever the fuck Marcas had done to her.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Sarah waited for the litany of questions she was certain was coming from the monarch. Where she came from, who she was, why she was here. So when it never came, she felt nothing but confused and afraid. When she finally found the courage to lift her eyes again, she found Jareth looking towards the window, rather than at her. He seemed perfectly at ease, simply waiting for her to start talking, and for them to sit in silence until then. The quiet was welcome, even if unexpected, and she bit her lower lip, letting it settle over her.

Knowing the sounds were just in her head explained why Marcas had accused her of running away. If she was the only one who could hear them, then how could anyone understand her terror?

And yet, Jareth had seemed to. He had at least recognized it, hadn’t diminished it for it being in her head. She hadn’t expected that from him. She could still feel the warm leather around her hands as he’d coached her through the panic attack.

When the goblin Jareth had called Gurdy burst back into the room, the sound startled a cry out of her and she pressed back into the chair. Instinct had her gripping the collar of the blouse she wore. The goblin looked distressed by her fear and stopped immediately, her large eyes looking watery and sad.

Fingers snapped and drew the goblin’s attention and Sarah looked slowly towards the other creature in the room. He was leaning so his elbows were on his thighs, putting him closer to the level of the anxious goblin. His eyes were fixed on it when he spoke. “On the table is fine, Gurdy. It isn’t you Goblinskin fears.”

The goblin looked back at her for a long moment and Sarah realized it was looking to her for reassurance. Finally, she nodded her head. “The door opening startled me.”

Gurdy relaxed and bustled over, setting the tea service on the table between her and the Goblin King, and she paused for a moment, turning towards her. Sarah blinked as Gurdy beamed up at her as if she were someone special as opposed to a broken shell of a person. Then, the goblin gave what amounted to a cursey and then bolted towards the door again, giggling.

Once the door was closed again, the soft clatter of china drew her attention and she saw Jareth pouring tea for her. She found herself staring at his hands as he did. His fingers, she noted, were long and graceful, but still covered by the soft leather gloves. Still, considering what skin she could see, she could imagine what they looked like. Pale and soft, the blue of his veins visible under the transparent skin. No freckles or spots maring them. The hands of an aristocrat. She was spellbound, watching as he added sugar and cream to his own cup.

“You remember what I said about people working for the good of the kingdom?” His words were quiet and they still startled her because she hadn’t expected him to speak.

She lifted her eyes to his face as he set a cup of tea towards her, the plate having a cookie with a disc of chocolate slightly melted into it. She felt her stomach churn in discomfort, staring at the tea, wondering if he’d be offended if she refused it. She pulled it closer, taking a moment to dress her own tea.

“Y-yes,” she managed, staring into the tea as the cream mixed into the sweet smelling tea. There was a quiet sigh from the man across from her, and she cringed.

“The food is safe,” he said, his voice sounding patient. “Anything given to you in this place will be. You need only be cautious if it’s offered by someone from outside of my kingdom.”

Those words gave her pause and she lifted her eyes to look at him, startled that he realized exactly what her concerns were. “What?”

His eyes lifted to her and she saw amusement clear on his face. “Did you think I couldn’t tell you are mortal? You dress up well enough as a goblin, but you don’t smell the part. I’m also partial to fairy stories from the Above and have read Perault.”

She blanched, shaking her head to deny what he was saying. He knew she was lying. He would punish her. He’d -

“You can relax, Goblinskin. I’m not telling you to reveal yourself. However, pretending that you’re a goblin in truth is useless. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but even when they’re clean, they have a particular odour.” He relaxed back into his chair, sipping his tea and smiling at her over the cup. Again, she noticed the smile gave his face a sinister look. “Besides, the Shadow Kingdom and its king have little use for goblins. However, Marcas is known for sneaking above and kidnapping a mortal or generally stirring up trouble. The goblins are already aware that you’re a mortal, and while Fenris and Olivia refuse to give me details, I’m no fool.”

“I didn’t mean to offend -” The words spilled from her as soon as he stopped talking, until he lifted a hand and met her gaze, his eyes pinning hers.

“Girl, if I were offended, you’d know it. This wasn’t the reason I brought you here. I need to know what skills you have that can benefit the kingdom.” His tone was all business, now, serious, the smirk he’d been wearing gone.

Those words knocked the wind out of her and she curled in on herself, chafing her hands over her arms. How to explain that she didn’t have special skills, that she was useless? Could she explain in a way that he would understand?

“I have no skills,” she finally said, and a sigh escaped her. “None that you can’t already find in your kingdom.”

“I find I sincerely doubt that,” he scoffed, leaning back. Another sigh escaped him, gusted from his nose and his eyes narrowed as if considering her honesty. “Put the false modesty aside. Tell me what things you’ve trained to do in your life.”

She started to shake her head, again, thinking he didn’t understand. Then, she paused, thinking that maybe she was the one who hadn’t understood. She bit her lower lip, hunching in on herself as she thought. “I know how to cook and tell stories. I have a passably neat hand and I know shorthand for notation. I know basic science and math, but nothing fancy. I can -”

Drive. Her breaths caught, and she felt a tremor wrack her body, and she thought she’d start to panic again, but she caught his gaze and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm.

A smile curved his lips again and she thought she saw pleasure on his face. “While the kitchen staff can always use extra help, I know someone who is in greater need of an assistant than the cook, and the job requirements would be similar. The healer has been mentioning that she could use an extra set of hands.”

She blinked, feeling surprise and interest.

“When she’s developing new potions, she needs someone to notate measurements, act as a runner for materials she needs, and make certain she eats.” The amusement on his face deepened as he lifted his tea and took a long sip. “Healers tend to hyperfixate on what they’re doing, often to the detriment of their own bodies. That’s especially true with a difficult healing.”

“I think I can do that much,” she said, uncertain. It did sound like a job she could do, but - “Would I have to stay in the castle?”

“While you’re working, yes, unless your work takes you from it to grab materials. When you aren’t working, you’re free to use your time however you wish, go wherever you like. At night, you’d be free to return to your room outside of the city. However, you might wish to make use of the room available here, once you learn of your hours.”

She inclined her head, feeling her brow furrow again in thought. She definitely did not want to stay in the castle. Not under any circumstances. The look on his face told her knew exactly what she was thinking. Still, he seemed equally certain that her mind would change.

“Olivia typically rises before the sun, and tends to work late into the evening. Your hours would be the same as hers, which would mean you would have to get up very early in order to make it to the work room on time.”

She swallowed hard, considering that for a long moment. She lifted her tea with shaking hands, taking a sip, and then took a small bite of the cookie to give herself time to consider the offer. The silence hung between them for a long moment, and she swallowed hard. The cookie seemed to stick in her throat like the words she was trying to say. How could she explain the terror of being in a castle room, when he didn’t know what had happened to her?

“The door...won’t disappear?” She lifted her face to him, then lowered them again when she saw the intensity of his gaze on her. She shrunk in on herself a little, trying to steady and calm herself. She could remember the panic, that first night, of finding there was no way to escape her prison. How the door only appeared when someone was coming into her room. She took a deep breath before looking at him, again. “To keep me from running...my door would disappear.”

It was the only explanation she could offer, right then.

He was silent for a long moment and he turned to look away from her, his gaze turned towards the window. He leaned on the arm of the chair, his chin resting on his palm, deep in thought for a long moment, before he spoke. His tone had a hint of self-deprecating humor in it.

“These are the faerie lands. Sometimes, things do not behave as expected, here. However, I can promise that I will not remove your door.” He looked at her, and reached out across the table, his hand curving over the wooden surface. When he lifted his hand, there was a heavy brass key resting there. “I’ll show you how that key works when I take you to get settled into your room. Do you have any additional concerns you wish to address?”

The elephant in the room, and he just ripped the cover right off of it. She felt a shiver work its way through her and she swallowed hard. She mad a million concerns. Her fear of being here, in the same room as him, felt like it was choking her. The feel of the stones around her felt like they were pressing down on her, crushing the air from her lungs. He was a man, or at least like one, and one like him had hurt her in ways she still didn’t want to think about too closely.

“Yes,” she finally admitted, looking at him and curling her hands into fists, pressing them against her thighs. “But they’re not ones I want to talk about.”

His brow lifted and he got to his feet, again, nodding his head in acceptance. “As you wish. From this moment, you’re a ward of the Goblin Kingdom. Which means your well being is my responsibility. Come along, Goblinskin. Let’s get you settled in to get cleaned up and have some rest before meal time?”

Her nerves were scraping at her as she got to her feet, and she looked at him for a long moment. “What about where I’ll be working?”

“That can wait. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, and escort you to the work room.” He had a wry smile on his face, as if he was keeping something close to his chest, that he wouldn’t tell her. She remembered what he told her in the tunnels, about bravery, and not asking her to not be afraid, and she curled her hands into fists, trying to control the tremble in them.

“I’m afraid of you,” she admitted, biting her lower lip.

His lips twisted further and he tilted his head back and laughed. It was an unexpected sound and her eyes widened. For a moment, she felt a stab of fear in her heart. Then, he looked at her and she found no malice in his gaze. He reached down and picked the key from the table, handing it towards her, waiting until she took it.

“Very brave of you to admit that,” he said after a moment, and she saw amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I can’t say that isn’t a wise thing, considering my kind’s nature. However, I take my duties and responsibilities very seriously. So when I say your well being is my responsibility, that means that I will do my best to ensure that no harm comes to you while you’re under my care.”

He moved past her without another word, his eyes still bright with amusement and she followed him before she realized that she’d moved to. That frightened her, too. But right now, she was seeing the part of him that she’d heard others talk about. The Jareth that Fenris and the Fireys had spoken of. And for the first time since the accident, she found she didn’t feel quite as much fear strangling her. So she followed him when he left the room to guide her to where she was going to be staying while she was here. Until she could gather her courage and admit to him who she was. Until she could find it in her to ask to go home.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Olivia was helping heal an incident that involved two goblins and some everlasting sticky glue when a knock sounded at her workroom door and she looked up, finding Jareth standing there. She lifted a brow as the sovereign walked in and then she turned her attention back to her work. He looked relaxed, she noted, as he leaned against the wall and watched her separate the goblins and send them on their way.

The pair gave a shrill giggle as they ran out of the room, tripping over one another as they passed their king on their way to go get into more mischief.

Jareth pushed off the wall, moving towards her and she noted that he looked quite pleased with himself. She straightened, toweling her hands off and arching a brow at him. “You look like the cat that caught the canary.”

“Do I?” He asked, moving further into her working space. She felt cautious as she watched him, with good reason. The king would never hurt his subjects, but she was aware that he was moving like a predator. She didn’t have an explanation for the odd tension she saw in him, and until she did, she knew well enough to be wary. “A guest has come to the castle, today. Tomorrow she’ll be joining you here for work.”

Her brows jumped up and she straightened, hearing the message under the words. “The -”

“She has requested to be called ‘Goblinskin’,” he said, his voice cutting her short. She understood the interruption. If they had a way to refer to her that didn’t speak of who she was or what she’d done, it would be safer for the girl. So she didn’t try to singe her king’s eyebrows off. He turned his back to her, leaning his hips against her worktable, his arms crossed on his chest. “I realize that you will not break a confidence, especially not a medical one. So I will not ask again what state she was in when you first saw her. I decided that a month was enough time for her to acclimate to the new environment. If that turns out to be too soon, we’ll know soon enough."

“What do you mean that she’ll be joining me for work?”

He turned towards her and she found a smug grin curving his lips. “Refugee or not, she’ll work for her keep here. You need an assistant, at least someone who can ensure that you’re taking care of yourself when you’re working. I know that you get distracted and fail to do so, much to the ire of your lover. Consider this me juggling two crystals on one hand. She’ll be kept close enough that she can actually be protected and you’ll have someone besides Fenris and myself ensuring that you take meal breaks.”

She felt a curious itch at the corner of her eyes, even as a laugh escaped her throat. Leave it to him to figure out a way to handle them both at once. Manipulative little bastard. The thought wasn’t malicious, and it touched her that the regent worried enough to insist on something like this.

“And what am I supposed to have her do besides letting her feed me?” She asked, crossing her arms and leaning back against a shelf lined with bottles of potions, tinctures, and jars of herbs.

“You can use her as a runner for ingredients, taking notation, and if you’re working on a new potion, you can have her write down the results of your experiments. Just don’t treat her like a guinea pig. I don’t want to have to come in and find that she’s been turned into a sea slug or worm.” He looked amused by that and she gave him an unrepentant grin.

“That was one time, and the goblin had a great time freaking out the others as he changed between invertebrates.”

He gave her a look of intense amusement, then she saw the expression change. The smile slid off as it became more serious and she felt her concern for her friend push to the surface. She moved towards him, setting a hand on his arm, not looking away from his face.

“Fenris was right, Olivia. She’s fragile. Her backbone is still there, but I fear it’s been broken. She had a panic attack, before I brought her to the castle, and she’s having auditory hallucinations. I don’t know what Marcas did to her while she was in the Shadow Court, but she’s not the girl I remember her being just a few short years ago. So, take care of her, Olivia.” His voice was quiet as he spoke and she saw something she’d never seen before in the man’s eyes. He was grieving who the girl had been, before she’d been dragged back here.

There were some things a man like Jareth wouldn’t be able to comprehend, because he was a good man who had never experienced the trauma that she and Fenris had. So she just slipped her arms around his, hugging his arm and set her cheek on his shoulder. She didn't tell him what she’d discovered while healing the girl. That wasn’t hers to tell. But she could answer the request he made.

“I will, Jareth. I promise.”


	9. Hidden Truths

Sarah woke feeling warm, and for the first time in too long, oddly safe. She couldn’t remember dreaming about anything the night before, even without the potion. She wondered, for an idle moment, if she’d dreamed everything. As she stared at the ceiling, she jolted, realizing she wasn’t in the room of broken dreams. That put her immediately on guard. Her hand shot to her face and she breathed a bit better. She’d gone to sleep with the mask on, she realized, and straightened it, checking to make sure it hadn’t loosened.

After reassuring herself of the protection the mask afforded, she looked around the space, her trembling hands clinging to the blanket. The heavy, brass key was sitting on the table beside her bed, and she lifted it, turning in her hands.

There was nothing wrong with the room, even if it was made of heavy stone coated in a dusting of gold glitter. The bed wasn’t overly large, like the one in the room in the Shadow Kingdom. In fact, it was only slightly larger than a full sized bed from her own realm. The frame was dark wood, darker than she’d have picked for herself, in truth. The covers, however, were bright and warm, which she’d appreciated the evening before. The small space had sparse furnishings, but there was a wardrobe that she’d found fully stocked with working dresses - long-sleeve linen under dresses with sleeveless over dresses that had deep pockets in the front.

There was a dresser of underthings, a small side-table by the bed. The majority of the floor was covered by a thick carpet, and tapestries hung on the walls. Two, large windows flanked the modest fireplace, both dressed with light, airy curtains. In front of the fireplace was a small, low table and a chair.

She’d eaten there the night before.

The only time someone had knocked at her door, last night, there was a tray of food sitting on the ground outside and a book with it. It had taxed her courage to answer it at all. Still, when she saw the food, she cracked the door just enough to drag the tray in, before closing and locking the door. That was when she discovered why he’d given her that key.

When she locked the door, it vanished, leaving only a faint impression in the stone. No one could get into her room unless she allowed it. Maybe that was the real reason behind that feeling of safety.

The food had been light. Berries and cream, sweet bread, and more of the tea she’d been given by the Goblin King. After she’d eaten, she’d gone into the small adjoining bath and found a steaming tub waiting, lightly scented with a soft, sweet smell she couldn’t identify. The smell helped her relax enough to actually strip down and bathe before she pulled on a chemise and curled up in the bed.

Foolish, really, to feel safe in this castle, but she did. Perhaps it was knowing that she was screaming distance from Fenris, and that gave her the sense of security. Maybe it was because Jareth hadn’t touched her without permission more than once, and that was when he held her hands and dragged her out of the panic attack she’d had yesterday.

She wasn’t stable, not by any sense of the word, and she knew it. But the work he’d offered would give her a challenge to focus on, rather than what she’d been doing up to this point. That amounted to her trying to bury all the trauma she’d experienced and pretend it didn’t happen. To be frank, that hadn’t been working. Knowing now that she was the only one who could hear those crashing sounds proved that much.

She didn’t know what else to do about it. She had to pretend to be functional, to bury what had happened, and put her focus elsewhere. She had to try to forget it.

So, she rose from the bed, finding and fussing the clothes she’d been given on. None of the clothing was complicated and she was glad for that. She found that they were warm, however, and the socks and boots she’d found were, too. She brushed her hair, and then found a scarf, tying the mass of dark strands back and up to keep it out of her way. She looked at her masked face in the mirror when sounds from outside caught her attention.

“What the devil -?”

The confused voice of the Goblin King reached her and she turned towards where the door should be. Every nerve in her body stood on end and she grabbed the heavy key with trembling hands. Rushing towards the door, she shoved the key at the vague impression of a keyhole and threw the door open, looking up at him in fear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here.”

He just lifted his hand to silence her while he stared at her door for a long moment. There was no temper on his face, just a bemused sort of curiosity. Then, he looked towards her.

Instinct made her hands reach up and verify, again, that her mask was there. Reassured by the feel of it, she lowered her hands and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. He was silent as she joined him in the hall, just watching and considering her.

“Did you bring your key?”

“Yes,” she said, and held it up.

“Lock your door, then.” His voice was calm, but there was something she couldn’t identify in his expression and it gave her a spike of anxiety. She took the key and locked the door behind her. This time, the door didn’t disappear. Before she could consider why, Jareth spoke again, his voice pensive. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“What is?” She blinked looking towards him. He had that strange, somewhat sinister smile on his face, again.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Goblinskin. Come along. I’d like us to make it to the healer’s work room before she ends up too busy handling whatever nonsense my goblins have managed this time.” He turned on his heel and headed down the corridor. As he moved, the lights ahead of them sprung to life, illuminating the hall in front of them with a pale blue light. She scurried after him, wondering if that was another thing the Labyrinth did for the people who lived here.

“The lights -”

“Hmm?” He looked towards her, and then returned his gaze ahead of them. Whatever he was thinking, he was keeping close enough to his chest that she had no idea what it was. “They do that. I forget that sometimes, the Labyrinth can be disorienting for people who aren’t accustomed to it’s quirks.”

She took that at face value, since in her experience he’d never lied to her, and followed him down the hall. She paused for a moment as they passed the entrance to the escher room, then hurried on, keeping her eyes averted. They stopped in front of a large wooden door, which he opened and then stepped into a massive workroom.

There were several small beds along one wall of the room, a few goblins already groaning in them. In the middle of the room was a large table with a potion bubbling away on it. Several shelves held books and potions. There was a small desk scattered with parchment and ink. Leaning over the table in the middle of the room was a woman with generous curves and long, auburn hair twisted into a thick braid. She could see from the strands that had escaped, it was curly.

Sarah felt surprised for a moment, realizing that this was the healer. For some reason, she’d been expecting a man.

“What have these idiots done to end up in here, this time?” Jareth asked, stepping away from her and moving towards the goblins on the beds.

The woman looked up, amusement bright in her eyes. “They all indulged in a drinking competition last night, as ever. They’ll be fine with some rest and some time pain powders.”

Then, the woman seemed to recognize that they weren’t alone in the room and her eyes turned towards her. She was pretty, Sarah noted. Her eyes were shaped like almonds and colored like emeralds. Her nose had a graceful slope, and beneath that, full lips, and her jaw had a gentle curve. Those lips curved into a smile and she moved around the table towards her.

“You must be Goblinskin. Jareth mentioned you’d be working with me from now on. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand towards her, and Sarah looked from it to Jareth. He just gave her a bit of a nod, and she stepped forward, shaking her hand.

“Y-yes,” she acknowledged. “He mentioned that you needed an assistant. I hope I suffice.”

“I’m Olivia,” she said, and then glanced towards Jareth. He was still standing not far from his goblins, watching them closely. “I’ll get her settled in here, Jareth. Thank you for getting her here.”

A dismissal if Sarah had ever heard one. She blinked, surprised, because not only had Olivia called him by his name, rather than his title or an honorific, Jareth didn’t seem upset about it. She glanced towards the king and saw him with his arms crossed and a bemused smile on his face. That smile looked less sinister than the one she’d seen in the hallway.

“I’ll expect a report on all injuries treated from any ill-advised misadventures, Olivia. By the end of the day. Goblinskin can deliver it.” And with that, he turned towards the door and headed out, closing it behind him. Sarah watched him go, her hands shaking. Once she was certain that he was gone, she turned towards the woman standing in front of her.

“”You’re looking better.” Olivia waited for a beat, and then a brilliant smile curved her lips. “I was the one who treated your injuries when you first arrived in the Goblin City. Before we get started on the day’s work, I’ll feel better if I can make sure that your physical state has improved.”

Sarah curled in on herself, swallowing hard. Olivia took her hand and led her to a vacant bed and with no choice, she sat on the edge of it, curling her hands into the sheets that covered it. The woman didn’t touch her, just set her hands over her shoulders. A soft blue light formed at her palms and she felt a warm tingle through her. It was difficult to describe, because she’d felt nothing like it. It wasn’t unlike the goosebumps that rose when listening to music. Then, the glow died and the woman lowered her hands, nodding. She turned away for a moment, checking the goblin on the next bed while Sarah got her nerves under control.

“You saw me without my mask.” She must have, if she treated her before she woke. 

“I did,” Olivia said, very matter of fact about it. “Which is why his majesty is still fighting me over what the healing from that day involved. However, I find that is something between a healer and her patient. The only thing that was his business was that I healed you, and that your injuries were handled. He doesn’t need to know the extent of them.”

“Were you able to see...everything?” That question choked her, her hands quaking harder.

The woman stopped, went quiet for a long moment, her eyes distant. Then, she turned and looked at Sarah. “Every physical injury, yes. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I ensured that his actions would not result in lasting consequences for you.”

Her hands shook and she curled in on herself for a moment. Her stomach turned at the mere idea of what she meant and after a long moment, Sarah furiously nodded her head. “Thank you.”

There was silence from the other woman and Sarah lifted her eyes to look at her, again. Her gaze was turned away, looking at something Sarah couldn’t see. Then, she turned a smile towards her, once again.

“You’re welcome. Now, Goblinskin. Let’s get you trained up to help me out handling a collection of toddlers with drinking privileges.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Upon returning to his office, Jareth found four people waiting for him and he paused at the entrance, looking at them all with a lifted brow. Fenris turned and bowed at the waist, an apologetic look on his face. “Well, well. I wasn’t expecting so much company so early in the day.”

Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus looked at him, and he could see hostility on the face of the dwarf. His lips curved into a mocking smile as he moved into the room and towards his desk. He sat in the chair, shuffling his correspondence for a moment, before finally giving them his attention.

“Your majesty,” Fenris said, and his tone was cautious as he spoke. “The refugee is no longer in the room of broken dreams.”

“I’m aware. I collected her yesterday.” Jareth flipped through the stack of letters, sorting them and enjoying riling Hoggle up for the moment. After a moment, he paused, glancing up at them. “All of you are aware of my rules regarding refugees. Goblinskin cannot be allowed to continue living here if she doesn’t work. As I recall, Hogspit, you were a refugee a millenia ago. You know how this works.”

Hoggle sputtered, his hands curving into fists and he stepped towards the desk. Sir Didymus set a hand on his shoulder, stalling his forward movement. 

“You’re right, of course, your majesty,” the fox goblin said. He kept his tone and demeanor respectful, while the beast beside him just made a mournful groan. “We are just concerned that she isn’t well. We’re worried.”

“Fwend…” Ludo moaned, sounding distressed.

Fenris was still looking at him, his expression telling Jareth that his friend might be reading him too well, again. “If it pleases your majesty, might we know where the girl is working?”

“I’ve set her up assisting the healer. Is that sufficient?” He looked up at them, frowning, his eyes narrowing at all of them. “If that’s all, I have a great deal of work and you all are halting progress.”

Fenris and Didymus bowed before the group headed towards the door. He sighed after he heard the door shut, slapping his work aside and leaning back in his chair, a frown pulling at his lips. Too late, he realized that one of them hadn’t quite left, yet. Fenris was standing by the door and watching him. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, lips twisting a bit, and he wasn’t certain if it was a grimace or a smile he wore.

“Jareth,” Fenris said, moving towards him. His voice was quiet and mellow. “They mean no insult.”

“I’m aware. They are worried about her. I should have taken that into consideration, yesterday. I’d have though you’d have known about it already, since I spoke to Olivia about it last evening.”

“She doesn’t tell me everything.” Fenris moved towards him, bracing his hands against the desk and considering him. “I admit, I can’t recall you taking so much interest in a refugee, before. I noticed that, yesterday. You’ve been keeping an eye on her when the others aren’t there.”

“Observant as ever,” Jareth said, lifting a brow and eyeing his friend.

“I did train as a spy to serve you, Jareth. I’m quite good at it, remember?” His friend was smiling, and there was a hint of smugness to it.

Jareth scoffed, leaning back in his chair and after a moment, a sigh was wrung out of him. “She can’t be properly protected out there. She trusted me enough to come to the castle, but I suspect that she might actually have some quirks that none of us were aware of.”

A frown pulled at his friend’s face. “What do you mean?”

Pushing a hand through his hair, he leaned back, looking at the window on the side of the room. “The Labyrinth changes around her.”

Fenris straightened, his eyes wide as he considered what that meant. Jareth let him turn that over, as he’d been doing since the previous day and watched as the other man set to pacing.

“Yesterday, when I was escorting her to the castle, the doors that lead into the city closed. This morning, when I went to take her to Olivia’s workroom, her entire bedroom door was gone. When we were walking, faerie lights lit the way for us. I can’t be sure if it’s her or if the Labyrinth is doing it for her,” he admitted, heaving a sigh. “Did anything like this happen in the Shadow Kingdom?”

Fenris stopped pacing, thinking hard for a long moment. When he spoke, his tone was pensive. “Somehow, she escaped her room there, right before we left. I know I closed the door behind me and when that door was closed, it disappeared. Still, she managed to get out of the room before Marcas caught her.”

“Shit.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head before leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. “That explains her concern about me taking her door. And why she was resistant to staying in the castle.”

“If she’s been accidentally making things like this happen, she’s going to have to learn to get a hold of herself before something terrible happens,” Fenris said, pushing his own hair from his face, and rubbing the back of his neck. “And it means we have to get her out of here before Marcas figures out that she actually does have powers.”

Right now, that was the least of his concerns. A much larger one was that he was going to have to be the one to train her to use this power before it got any stronger. “If this happened in the Shadow Kingdom, she’s not just influencing the Labyrinth. If she’s not made aware of this, she could accidentally pull the world apart. She’s going to have to be taught to control the magic, and that’s more important than her simply learning to control her emotions.”

Fenris’s jaw tightened and he looked away for a moment. “You know the signs of battle trauma, your majesty.”

“I do, and I’m aware that she’s not had a chance to cope with whatever was done to her.” Not that anyone would tell him what the hell that was. “That’s why I sent her to work with Olivia, rather than having her sort my correspondence. She admitted that she’s afraid of me to my face. I don’t like that, to be blunt. But regardless of her feelings or my own, no one in this kingdom can teach her how to control that magic better than me. I’ll do my best to not push her, Fenris. She’s acclimated to the Labyrinth itself. I suppose it’ll take her time to acclimate to the castle as well.”

To acclimate to him was what he meant. That chafed as well. He was the king, she was a ward of the kingdom. The girl hadn’t shown a whit of fear, all that time ago. What the hell had changed?

Still, the allowance caused his friend to relax and nod. “Your history -”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fenris,” he said, stopping the other man, because he didn’t want to think of that, further. “I have no history with Goblinskin, correct? She’s just a refugee that only just came to the castle, and I’ll treat her as such.”

The elf lifted a brow, considering him for a long moment. “Yes, sir,” he said with some amusement in his tone. “I was foolish to have worried.”

“No, you weren’t.” The admission was difficult and he lifted his eyes to his friend. “But as you mentioned, I’ve been watching her and I know the signs of battle trauma. It takes time for something like that to heal.”

Whether he liked that or not. The woman gave him too damn much to worry about. He flopped back in his chair, half-scowling, not liking these thoughts. It would have been easier to leave her in the Shadow Kingdom, if it was going to be like dropping a hornets nest into his own. But her powers made that an equally terrible idea.

Fenris lifted a brow at him, and Jareth knew that he was trying to read him. It should probably bother him that his two friends could read him, but he was closer to them than anyone he’d ever met. After a moment, Fenris dragged a chair over and sat in it, kicking a foot up onto the edge of the desk and tilted his head, just waiting.

“Currently, we have a refugee who defeated the Labyrinth, who Marcas is no doubt looking for. Who happens to actually have powers over reality when she’s in the Underground. Who Marcas did something to break before you got her out of there. She’s fragile and frightened and I can’t even send her home because the bastard will just find her again and drag her back here. At least if she’s here, she’s under my supervision.”

Fenris gave him a crooked grin, and shrugged.

“With all the other insanity in my life, already, why did he have to find her?” Jareth mused, grinding his teeth so hard his jaw ached. It didn’t help that he felt oddly protective of the girl, more than he had for his other refugees. Was that because she’d been a runner? Because he’d known her before she’d been broken?

“I can understand your frustration about us not telling you what happened. But it’s not our story to tell. Yes, the bastard hurt her and she’s wounded as deep as I was when I was when I arrived. As wounded as Olivia was. You never pushed us for our stories, so give her time and she’ll tell you, herself.”

Again, he hadn’t known them before they came to him as a refugee. Even though he’d said that his personal history with the girl wouldn’t interfere, he was also aware that history was why he had such a keen interest.

“She defied him, you know. That first night she was there. He wanted to drag her to a dinner party. She was scared out of her wits, because she’d been dragged here, and she still fought back.” Fenris looked at him, his expression too serious. “He responded by taking the two ladies maids who were supposed to prepare her for ‘showing’, beheading them, and serving them for dinner. He left her alone in the room with them for almost two full days as a ‘lesson’ regarding how he saw people who had no use.”

That explained some of the fear, but not the panic attack. Something uncomfortable twisted in his stomach, and he shook his head. “That’s standard operation for Marcas. He’s never seen a problem with murder if it got him what he wanted.”

“He wasn’t giving her adequate food until he demanded I keep watch on her. At that point, I was able to get her more food, but she didn’t eat it regardless.”

“I served her tea yesterday. She was certain the food would trap her, here, so that doesn’t come as a surprise.” He didn’t mention the peach, which would be further reason she wouldn’t trust food offered by him. Dammit. “I assured her anything she ate here would be safe - as long as it came from one of my subjects.”

“As unfortunate as it is, you’re right. Sending her home before Marcas is handled is useless.” Fenris leaned back in the chair, heaving a sigh. “Poor kid probably doesn’t even realize she has any powers at all. She kept telling him that, you know. That she didn’t have any powers. He never believed her.”

Jareth heaved a sigh from his nose and looked out one of the office windows, thinking for a long moment. To handle Marcas, he’d have to get the bastard here, physically. Especially if the other courts continued to want to sit this shit out. Stripping him of his powers would be the fastest option. Probably the most socially acceptable, too. Killing him would be best, and would take care of a long-standing, toxic problem in the Underground. A quiet snarl escaped him and he bit his thumb, thinking hard.

“I’m working on a plan for that. I’ve been preoccupied with ensuring the girl’s safety, of late. Perhaps now that she’s actually at the castle, I can focus on the rest of this utter disaster.” He looked towards his friend, frowning. “Do you have any ideas? You were there and understand what might be a good lure.”

“Marcas always likes a good party.” Fenris gave him a grin that was a bit on the crooked side. “And you’ve been single for quite some time, haven’t you? A party like that might be just the right lure to get Marcas here so you could deal with him.”

“An engagement party?” Jareth straightened in his seat, lifting a brow. “And who, exactly, would I be marrying?”

“Someone from the Shadow Kingdom, of course. I can make a list of candidates for a fake bride. Once who would make Marcas think he’d have an in to get his hands on your throne, since that’s his primary, long-term goal.”

Jareth snarled in distaste. “I’d think the whole of the Underground knew that I’d rather die than spend a minute with anyone from that kingdom - never mind anything more intimate.” Still, he considered it, tapping his cheekbone with a fingertip. It had merit. And it would force the other courts to be here when he enacted justice, so they couldn’t claim ignorance. A sinister smile curved his lips and he straightened in his seat.

“I’ll get you that list, this evening,” Fenris said, huffing out a laugh.

The idea had promise. At very least, it was worth a shot. The more complicated matter was keeping their little refugee out of the line of fire. 

Fenris standing drew Jareth’s attention and their eyes met over the desk as a more serious thought came to his mind. He choked on the question in his throat for a long moment, and noted his friend waiting, like he knew that he was going to ask something.

“You said she’s at least as broken as you were when you arrived. Do you think she’ll heal?”

Fenris paused and Jareth saw something in his eyes. Grief. Then, he looked away, a sad smile curving his lips. “As much as any of us can, Jareth. But it’ll take time.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Working with Olivia was hard work, but Sarah found it rewarding and enjoyable at the same time. In fact, she found that she far preferred it to what she’d been doing at home. It wasn’t like nursing or emergency trauma care. Olivia was a healer in the magical sense and when she wasn’t making potions to aid simple things, she handled the goblins for many different mischief-related issues.

Several came in because of mere overdrinking. Two had done swan dives into the chicken pens, resulting in them getting severely pecked. One had decided to attempt to outrun the cleaners - that didn’t end well for him, even though he survived. Several came in because they’d been playing catch with the fireys. When asked why there were so many concussions, they admitted they were what was being thrown.

Sarah decided she’d have a talk with the fireys about that, later.

After a lunch of hearty sandwiches, during which Sarah got to know Olivia better, a woman who lived in the city came in. She was late in her pregnancy, and was getting false labor cramps. Her husband had paced the hall outside, all excitement and nerves until he’d been told that it wasn’t time, yet.

After that, she’d been sent into the city with a list of herbs to pick up from the apothecary, and when she returned, she found six more goblins present. These had been involved in a game that involved them piling into a barrel and rolling it down the stairs. It had ended up in the escher room.

She learned how to make the sleeping potions she’d been using to keep from having the nightmares, as well as a basic healing potion for minor injuries, with Olivia explaining that the simpler potions she could start handling when they were both certain of the results.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to head straight back to her room and sleep, but Olivia reminded her that she was expected to take a report to the king.

Olivia had a funny sensibility when it came to talking about the Goblin King. Sometimes, she was all business, like she was very aware of her position versus that of the king. Other times, she called him by name and spoke of him with a frankness that would have alarmed Sarah if she hadn’t seen how he’d smiled about it, earlier. So, when she’d referred to him by title rather than name, Sarah knew she was acting as the healer of the Goblin Kingdom, and meant business.

So, she accepted the sealed report from Olivia and left the room, heading through the castle walls, trying to ignore the dread in her stomach. Her feet didn’t seem to want to move, but she forced herself to keep walking along the halls. Still, no matter what she did, she didn’t seem to be able to find the king’s office.

Exhausted, she berated herself for not paying closer attention, when he showed her to her room the night prior. Still walking, she bit her lower lip until her strength wavered and her knees started to give out. A hand caught her by her bicep, holding her upright and she jolted. An involuntary cry of fear escaped her and she looked up at whoever had that grip on her arm. There, she found Fenris who was looking at her with an expression of concern.

“I apologize,” he said, his voice quiet and calm. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you listing and didn’t want you to fall.”

“Fenris,” she breathed, relief knifing through her. A sigh escaped her and she looked at the report she clutched between her hands, still. “I was supposed to deliver this to the king, but I got lost and can’t find his office. It’s my fault. I should have paid better attention, yesterday.”

“I can walk you there, if you’d like? I think you can be forgiven for getting turned around. You’re clearly exhausted.”

Sarah looked up at him, her nerves scraping inside of her. “You think he’d forgive me for being late?”

“The king respects hard work. Judging by the state of you, the healer had you running ragged today. In all honesty, it’s a relief. She doesn’t take care of herself when left to her own devices, and tries to handle everything herself.” He turned them in the direction of the office, Fenris keeping close, but no longer touching her. As they turned a corner, Fenris gave pause, lifting a brow. He seemed to be turning something over in his head, before he glanced towards her and gave her a grin. “You’re so tired, I’ll take the report to Jareth. If he has an issue with that, I’ll handle it.”

Perplexed, she nodded, and handed him the envelope. “Thank you, Fenris. Please tell him I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go get some rest.” He gave her a rueful grin and tilted his head a bit.

She gave him another smile, feeling a bit worried that she wouldn’t be able to find her room without help. Then, she remembered the day before, when Jareth had said that the Labyrinth liked her. She brushed her fingers against the wall and blinked in surprise as she got a clear impression of how to get to her room. A picture of her door, still closed. She wondered if that would have gotten her to the Goblin King’s office, and decided to try that another time.

“Will you find your way alright?”

She paused, and then turned towards him, giving him a smile. “Yes. The king said the Labyrinth likes me.”

Fenris nodded and gave her a brief salute before he headed down the hall in the opposite direction she walked in. She watched him go for a long moment before heading to her room. She, oddly enough, trusted the Labyrinth to make sure she got there, and sure enough, she found her door. She unlocked and opened it, but before she could close it, another familiar face appeared, holding a tray full of food, heading her way.

Hoggle.

She glanced around, and when he reached her door, she held it open for him and gestured him inside. Once it was closed and the tray set aside, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. The dwarf patted her back, and when she drew back, looked at her closely.

“You had us worried. Weren’t in your room, no sign where you’d gone.”

“He found me yesterday,” she admitted, hesitating, not certain what to say about that. “He gave me a job.”

“Good,” Hoggle said, holding her hands, his worry evident. “Worried he’d found out who you are. Seems your disguise is holding up well enough to fool him.”

She gave a shaky nod, sighing. “Seems so.”

“I’ll let you get settled in, then. We were just worried, so I decided I’d find ya to get Ludo to stop howling.” He patted her hands, his expression still worried. “Should you need us?”

“I’ll call,” she said, feeling a sharp ache in her chest as those words came back and slapped her. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, squeezing his hands. It meant a lot, already, that he’d come into the castle for her and make sure she was safe. When she’d gotten her brain untangled, she released his hands.

He gave her another worried look before he turned towards the door. She reached out, catching his shirt, pinching the edge between two fingers.

“Hoggle. Thank you.” She was how cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“‘S nothing,” he insisted after a moment. When she released him, he bustled out of the room. When he was gone, she sat down with the food at the small table in front of the unlit fireplace. She looked at it for a long moment, but before she could so much as dip her spoon in the stew, she fell asleep in the chair.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth was right about her powers, Fenris noted as he reached the door to Jareth’s office. Once she’d left, he’d been able to find it exactly where it should be. Somehow, Sarah was changing the Labyrinth around her. He doubted she realized that she’d been twisting the world to keep from seeing Jareth, but that’s what happened. He considered the envelope for a long moment, wondering why she was delivering such a thing, anyways. Unless that was Jareth’s way of checking on her.

He knocked at the king’s door, then opened it, walking in. Jareth was leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, a tired look on his face. There was a piece of paper in his hand, the king’s grasp creasing it. Fenris moved inside until Jareth finally focused on him, then he gave a short bow, ignoring the stab of concern at the temper in his king’s eyes.

“Your report from the healer,” Fenris said, smirking at the man and setting the paper down on the desk in front of his king. There was a frown on the man’s face. “Goblinskin, regretfully, was unable to make it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Weariness in his voice, as well, but still enough temper at the defiance that he noted it.

“It means I got a first hand account of your comment regarding the Labyrinth twisting itself around her. She was so tired by the time I saw her, she was stumbling and almost fell asleep walking. I tried to walk her here, but turns that should have taken us here took us elsewhere in the castle. I don’t know if the Labyrinth was doing it out of respect for her fear for you, or if she was muddling her chances out of dread, but she seems to have thought that she was too tired and didn’t pay attention, yesterday.”

The king leaned back, a frown pulling at his lips. He looked at the report and picked it up, considering it for a long moment before setting it aside. “Whatever have I done that makes her so terrified of me?”

The musing surprised Fenris, and he straightened, the smirk falling from his lips. He considered the other man. He seemed petulant, almost. Like he was sulking. Again, his concern regarding the man’s history with her scratched at him, again. “You might consider that she was under the neglect of Marcas and the Shadow Court for some time before I was able to get her out of there. Whether you like it or not, you are the same race as Marcas. I also didn’t trust you when I first met you, either, and it took time for our friendship to develop.” He hesitated. “And she thinks you’re furious over your loss to her, that as soon as you realize her identity, you’ll turn into the villain you pretended to be during her run.”

“I never hurt her,” he insisted. “I realize I play my role well, it’s one that I’ve no choice but to play when someone wishes away a child. I’ve played it for years. But I never let any of my runners come to harm. I even tried to keep their run from biting them in the ass, later, by disguising it as a damn dream. To fear me so deeply that she twists the Labyrinth to avoid me is insulting -”

It was difficult, biting back what Marcas had done to her, but he managed. Instead, Fenris sat in the chair that was still sitting in front of Jareth’s desk and looked at him for a long moment. “Have I ever told you how I ended up where you found me in the Cliffs of Despair?”

“No,” Jareth said, a frown covering his face, that petulant tone still in his voice. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was a slave in the Winter Court, to some minor noble. They weren’t important enough to have the interest of anyone of power, but he so wanted power. You know that part. Do you know what he did to me that resulted in me slaughtering the entire family that lived in that house?”

That seemed to startle his king. The man straightened, considering him, his eyes narrowed.

He’d never told Jareth the whole of it. He didn’t even think he’d ever told Olivia everything. But for Jareth to understand how badly someone could be hurt, it was time. He gave a bitter, rough sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

“I’d been serving them for decades. None of them were good people. My master, in particular, was a mean tempered bastard. Far more like Marcas than you could ever dream to be. He was selfish, self-serving, and power hungry. Perhaps that was why he never amounted to anything, there. I don’t know. But he wanted to social climb. Married a woman who was wealthier than him, who was from a more powerful family. He was pushing his son to do the same. There was a young nobleman’s daughter of marrying age. And he invited the family over for a party. The girl’s father expressed interest in such an ‘exotic’ slave. So I was offered up for the evening’s entertainment.”

“Stop,” Jareth commanded, holding a hand up, but Fenris didn’t stop, the words falling from his lips.

“The nobleman savaged me - he beat and raped me the whole of the evening. It wasn’t the first time I’d been used like that, you know. Just the worst, the most demeaning. When it was over, I couldn’t even move. When my master found me like that, he started beating me for not pleasing the man. After all, if I’d done my job properly, his son would have ended up engaged to the other man’s daughter.” Fenris scoffed, a sneer curving his lips. “He tried to rape me, too. The pain had reached the point where something inside me snapped, and I don’t know where the strength came from, but I grabbed him around the neck and beat his head against the floor until he stopped moving.” 

“His wife and son heard his screams and came running. The son grabbed me while the woman tried to subdue me. All I remember of killing them was the red haze that hung over my vision. The manor guards came after me, next, and I ripped them apart. I don’t know if anyone other than me survived that day. When you found me, I’d been on the run for a long time. Bounty hunters from the Winter Court had come after me. They couldn’t have a valuable slave like me running loose after killing a noble family. I’d had to kill all of them to survive. In all honesty, when you found me, I thought you were one, too. At that point, I was little more than a feral dog, and would have rather died than be dragged back to that hell.”

“Fenris,” Jareth said, his voice sounding strained. “What does this have to do with what happened to the girl?”

When he looked back at his king, focused on the present after being lost in memories, he found Jareth more pale than usual. Fenris leaned towards him, his elbows on his thighs, looking into his friend’s face, his own serious.

“Jareth, that’s the hell I went through before I got here. She’s as fragile as I was when I first got here. So, Jareth, what do you think a bastard like Marcas would do to a girl like her?” He let that question hang in the air between them. There, the temper in his eyes but aimed elsewhere, and horror that was deeper. “I told you some of it. The psychological torture of trapping her in that room. What was done to the maids to teach her a lesson. You also know she was injured enough to require Olivia’s services when we got here. So, like I did, she’s going to need time before she’s going to be able to set that fear aside and start to trust you.”

Jareth didn’t speak. Fenris wasn’t certain he could, right then. The conversation had taken a heavy turn, but it was a story that Jareth needed to hear so he could comprehend the reality of what Sarah had experienced. So, rather than letting Jareth press Sarah for it, Fenris gave his own story. They sat in that uncomfortable, smothering silence for a while before Fenris got to his feet, gave the king another short bow, and headed out of the room.

He didn’t pay attention to where or for how long he wandered. When he reached the room he shared with Olivia, he found his lover sitting on the edge of the bed, damp from her bath. A heavy sigh was wrung from him, and he walked towards her, dropping to her knees beside her, resting his cheek against her thigh.

The action surprised her, because he heard the quiet gasp. Then, her fingers started to comb through his hair, nails scraping gently on his scalp and he closed his eyes. It was always difficult, driving those memories away when they crept up, and like Olivia, his own past had reared its ugly head of late. As she continued brushing her fingers through his hair, he wrapped his arms around her legs, a sigh wrung from him.

“What’s happened?”

The worry in her voice smoothed through the rough tangle of his own emotions. “Tonight I spoke of events that I’ve only ever spoken of with you, because our King needs to understand the damage a man like Marcas can do to someone.”

Fingers found his chin, and she eased his face back up, her eyes holding his. “Do you need me to hold you, tonight?”

A ragged sound between a laugh and a sob escaped him. “So I don’t wake up screaming from the dreams? Yes.”

She shifted onto the bed, her arms opening to him as she lay back and he climbed up beside her, curled towards her. As her arms went around his head, his own went around her waist, his cheek pillowed against her breasts. Her fingers resumed combing through his hair as they lay there, and he bit his lower lip hard enough that it bled.

“I need you,” he said, his voice quiet.

“As much as I need you,” she answered, her warmth enveloping him. Laying like that, in a way so completely divorced from his past, he was able to relax again. The feel of her fingers, gentle in his hair, lulled him to sleep and as he drifted off, he heard her soft breaths, the beat of her heart by his ear.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Jareth sat for a long time, troubled by the story that Fenris had told and the implications behind it. He’d known Fenris had been pushed to the brink in the Winter Kingdom. It’s why he’d allowed him asylum, rather than sending him back. He’d recognized that of Sarah, as well, but he’d missed the larger picture. He’d been too busy thinking that he’d never caused the girl harm, so she shouldn’t fear him. Fenris had ripped that illusion from him by laying bare a secret Jareth had allowed him to keep. Fenris was there after whatever trauma had occurred, had seen her before she was taken from the Shadow Kingdom. Whatever he’d seen had caused his friend to share that story with him.

Those possibilities caused grief and anger and more complicated emotions that he could barely tolerate.

A sigh escaped him and he pressed his fists to his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure of the headache behind them. He’d been so fixed on the fact that Sarah was afraid and didn’t trust him, he’d ignored the fact that until recently he’d never done anything to prove himself trustworthy. It stung that it had taken his friend shoving that truth into his face for him to understand it. 

He was the same race as Marcas, from the same world, and she’d only ever known his cruelty. Worse, he was the same gender, and the implications of Fenris’s story -

No, even Marcas couldn’t be so callous, could he? No way to know for sure until she opened up enough to tell him.

Another sigh escaped him and he got to his feet, heading towards the door. As he went, he shoved the report from Olivia into his pocket, along with the list of names Fenris had made up for him, earlier that day. He’d peruse them further in his room, and hope that Olivia had gotten the point regarding his request for a report.

As he passed the space he’d given Sarah to sleep in, he found the door cracked and paused, his brow furrowing. Earlier, that door hadn’t even been there. Now, it was here and standing just open enough that he could see the fireplace wasn’t lit.

He should just continue on to his own room, but as he reached that conclusion, he heard the sound of whimpers from within. The quietest sound of fear, mixed with increasingly panicked sobs. The noise caused an unpleasant twist in his gut, something he’d noticed happening too often since he’d first seen her, again. A frown pulled at his lips and he decided to move on, walking past the door.

He didn’t get far when a scream of sheer terror made him freeze. Before he realized he’d changed course, he had pushed the door open and was looking around for where she was. Behind him, he heard the sound of goblins in the hallway, filling the door behind him. He gestured them away, eyes still scanning the room.

She wasn’t on the bed. She was curled up in a chair by the unlit fire, shivering from the chill and from fear. He moved towards the chair, leaving the door open behind him. He didn’t want her to think he’d trapped her in here with him. She was still in the grips of the nightmare, even as the scream died, her breath sucked in, readying for a second. He’d promised he wouldn’t touch her, and he remembered that as a hand reached out to pat her face to wake her.

He bit the inside of his cheek, steadying himself and after a moment he called her to attention the only way he could think of.

“Goblinskin, attend.” His voice was crisp and uncompromising as he spoke, keeping his tone even. His eyes found tears that spilled beneath the mask as she slept. He hadn’t realized she’d felt so unsafe that she even slept with the thing on. Another thing to think about.

Her eyes snapped open and this time, she gave a quieter sound of fear, her arms lifting as if to defend herself. He kept his distance from her, keeping his jaw firm, feeling the tension in himself. When her gaze finally met his, she gasped and dropped to her knees.

“Y-your majesty -”

Shock and fear, her entire body was trembling, her breaths as ragged as when she’d had the panic attack the day prior. He crouched down in front of her, keeping space between them. How the hell to address this situation without causing more problems?

“It seems my healer ran you off your feet, today. Fenris tells me you were staggering through the halls, lost,” he said, and saw her cringe away from him as if she expected him to chastise her for failing to come to his study, herself. Rather than live up to that expectation, he changed the subject. “I was on my way to bed, and I heard you scream. Are you alright?”

She stilled, and after a moment, her face lifted and she looked at him, terror in her eyes. He watched her throat bob as she swallowed whatever she was feeling, and after a moment, she nodded. “I was having a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

He offered her his hand and watched her fight the battle with herself before she accepted the help. He eased her to her feet and looked towards the food that was sitting, untouched. A sigh huffed out of him and he gestured towards the fireplace, conjuring a flame to the logs that sat waiting there.

She jumped and he felt it, her grasp still on his hand. Then, he led her towards the bed, releasing her hand as he turned down the covers for her. “Do you wish to speak of it?”

She was standing behind him, and he didn’t turn towards her, hearing the way she still was struggling to breathe. “I -”

“I’m offering it, not ordering it,” he said, turning towards her. Her entire form was trembling and he shifted away from her, standing by one of the windows and retrieving a cigarette, cracking the window as he lit it and looking out across the Labyrinth. “I’m aware that you’re afraid of me and that I’ve done precious little to justify any trust you give me. It was rather forced into my face, this evening.”

“It’s not easy to talk about,” she said, her voice quiet. There was a fearful tremble in it. “It’s still really fresh.”

He took a long drag on the cigarette, and gave a half turn towards her, a smile curving his lips. “I imagine it’s not easy to listen to, either. And still I offer. If you can’t talk about whatever the nightmare was, right now, that’s fine. When you’re ready, I’m certain you’ll tell someone what happened.”

Unease and surprise in her eyes, now. He turned back to look out the window, pausing and then tamping the cigarette out on the stone ledge around the window.

“You should rest, if you’re able. You’ve an earlier morning, tomorrow, than you had today.”

“I -” She stopped herself, biting her lower lip so hard he wondered if she bruised it. “I’m afraid if I go to sleep, now, I’ll just dream about it, again.”

“Do you want a potion to help you sleep?” He watched as she shook her head, and saw her hands twisting the linen sleeve of her underdress. “Even one that will keep you from dreaming?”

“I don’t want to become reliant on those. I just...need some time to calm down?”

“A book, then?” He waved a hand, three fanning out when he lifted it, again. He set them on the table beside the tray of food. “While you’re reading, you could have a bite to eat, since it looks like you didn’t manage before you fell asleep.”

She was quiet for a long moment, and he started heading towards the door, thinking that was that.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

The words made him freeze, his back to her. That was the question, wasn’t it. He’d left a worse impression on the girl when he’d been her antagonist than he’d previously thought. Shaking his head, he shifted, to look back at her. Though he wore no physical mask, he was more accustomed to hiding what he was thinking than most, or he’d have ended up dead ages ago.

“Goblinskin, you’re a refugee from one of the darkest lands in the Underground. I hardly think cruelty would be a benefit to your mental state or productivity. I may be the Goblin King, but I’m more than the antagonist from a faerie tale.” He gave her a bit of a crooked grin. “Lock your door before you go to bed - you left it standing open, this evening.”

She paled, and then nodded her head. “That’s how you got in?”

“Strictly speaking, I can go wherever I damn well wish within the walls of the Labyrinth and the Goblin City,” he said, not bothering to lie to her. “However, I don’t typically violate the privacy of the people who work for me. This is your space, and you have the right to whatever company you wish in it.”

“Oh,” she said, and then nodded her head. After a long moment, she looked up at him again, nerves clear in her eyes. “Are you angry that I’m afraid of you?”

He considered how to answer that for a long moment and gave a quiet sigh. After a moment, he saw she’d come to stand in front of him, looking up at his face, like she was trying to read him. “I was, at first. Fenris pointed out that was idiotic.”

Her eyes were the size of dish plates as she looked at him and he gave her another smile.

“I haven’t done anything to earn your trust, yet. Offering basic security and courtesy are hardly stretching myself,” he said, answering the startled expression. “How can I fault your distrust when I haven’t earned any faith? You’ve every reason to doubt me and my kind. Especially since you were dragged, involuntarily, from your home for the amusement of the Shadow Court.”

Her head lowered, her eyes shielded from view, and she nodded.

“I know this is hard to believe, but you’re safe here.” He kept his voice quiet. “Regardless of how you came to the Underground, I want you to understand that much. No one will harm you, here.”

She nodded, again, and he suspected that she was crying. That knowledge left him uncomfortable, so he turned towards the door, heading out of the room.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she said, a moment before he cleared the door. “For checking in on me when you heard me screaming.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, glancing back at her for just a moment before leaving her and pulling the door closed behind him. The goblins that were crowding the doorway looked up at him, chewing on their fists in worry. He sighed and gestured for them to go on their way. “Go, all of you. See if there’s something tasty in the kitchens. She’s not ready to play with you just yet.”

Obediently, they trotted off to besiege his cook and he continued onward to his own room. Once his door was closed, he looked at the report that he’d shoved in his pocket and sighed, scrubbing a hand against his face. It irked him that Fenris was right about several things. Right to get her out of the Shadow Court, right to smack him with words about her right to fear him.

Part of why he had become friends with the elf was because he valued the other man’s insight. He’d never suspected his friend was hiding a story like that. It made him wonder for the first time what other sorts of stories the refugees kept from him.

He’d never demanded them, unlike how he was demanding to know what had happened to Sarah. He knew part of his pissiness regarding it was because he’d known Sarah when she was a runner. Much like she didn’t trust him because she knew him from when he’d taken her baby brother.

Speaking of which…

He rolled a crystal up to his fingertips and peered into the reflective surface. The goblins had been swapping out each week since he’d initially sent them to keep an eye on the girl and her family. Every day, Toby would arrive in that hospital room and would read his sister stories. He’d gotten better at it, Jareth noted. Over the last month, there was less hesitance in the words.

A sigh escaped him and he flicked the crystal away, stripping down and heading to the shower in his adjoining bath. Today had been too filled with heavy conversations and heavier thoughts. That girl gave him too many worries, he decided again and rubbed the back of his neck as hot water pelted his back. Taking a steadying breath, he closed his eyes and told himself he was just worried because the girl was so fragile.

He ignored the uncomfortable twist inside of him that had moved from somewhere near his stomach up a little higher, towards the vicinity of his chest.


	10. Work Arrangements

Sarah noticed over the next several weeks following that conversation that Jareth hadn’t approached her. The goblins, on the other hand, were visiting her almost daily. It was almost like they’d worked out a rotation to come into the healer’s workroom so that they wouldn’t overload them. A brief conversation with them shortly after she’d started about how hard the healer worked to make sure they could do their mischief had assured that. At least once a week, Ludo, Hoggle, and Didymus would come up and have lunch in the workroom with her.

The longer she was here, the more she felt herself relaxing. It was odd to her. Her mind kept telling herself how foolish that was, but she couldn’t help it. The presence of her friends and the kind nature of Olivia had that effect on her. It helped, also, that Jareth hadn’t insisted on her enduring his presence. That made her feel more brave, as long as she wasn’t left to her own thoughts.

Some days, Olivia told her that she didn’t need the assistance, and so she’d head down to the gardens and spend the day weeding them with Hoggle. That also helped keep her occupied, so she wouldn’t start thinking too much about what had happened to her. When she was distracted by her friends and her duties, she didn’t think as much.

Then, one day, she was told Olivia didn’t need her help and the garden beds were already well weeded. She’d wandered, trying to think of what she could do, and eventually she found herself at the door to Jareth’s office. She stood in front of it for a long moment, looking at it. She wondered for a long moment if she was brave enough for what she was considering. Then, she lifted a trembling hand and knocked on the door.

It swung open a moment later, and she found the King sitting at his desk surrounded by piles of paperwork. There was a crease from concentration in his brow. She stared at him from the doorway, digging deep for some courage before she stepped into the room.

“Just one moment,” he said, and she noted that he sounded slightly terse. His hand flew across the page, the quill in his hand scratching the parchment, and she wondered for a moment if she’d come at a bad time. As she watched, he folded the page with precise movements, then carefully heated a wax stub, pressing it on the closed page, then he pressed a metal stamp into it to seal the letter closed. He held a hand over it and the wax glowed for a moment, before he held the letter out to his side and it was snatched by a goblin that had appeared without a sound. The creature gave her a broad grin, then bolted out the window. Only once the correspondence was on its way did the King look up. His brows lifted immediately as if he were surprised to find her there. “Goblinskin, is something amiss?”

Words choked her for a moment as she tried to find the answer to that. “N-no. It’s nothing -”

He lifted his hand, requesting silence from her, and then he stood. He gestured to one of the chairs across from his desk and waited until she sat before he returned to his chair. He didn’t say a word, just waited patiently while she struggled with her fraying nerves. He didn’t push her to talk, but his focus on her unnerved her.

“I-I was just wondering if there was any work I could do, today. Olivia said she didn’t need my help and usually I’d help in the gardens in that case, but Hoggle said he didn’t need help, either.” She bit her lower lip, hard, her brow furrowing. It was hard to speak, her throat kept trying to close. “I don’t want to be idle. When I’m idle, I start thinking too much, and then I start to panic.”

He considered her for a long moment, his long finger tapping his cheekbone, his eyes narrowing on her. There was no malice in his expression, however. After a long moment, he leaned back in his chair, glancing away from her. “I'd have thought you’d want some downtime. Everyone in the castle knows how hard you’ve been working since you arrived. That’s probably why Hoggle and Olivia didn’t have you work, today.”

“Please,” she asked, her voice quiet. “I’ll do anything.” Anything that didn’t leave her alone with her thoughts and memories.

“Would you be amenable to working for me today, then?” He looked towards her, lifting a brow. “I assure you, I have plenty of work, myself. It’s not physically taxing, but it is plentiful. I’d considered suggesting you assist me when you first arrived, but it’s clear that you’re terrified of me, and to be honest, I didn’t wish to cause you further trauma.”

The matter of fact way he said it made shame surge through her. She lowered her face, biting her lower lip. “It’s not personal. I promise.”

“Indeed,” he said, not disagreeing with her and she swallowed hard, lifting her eyes to look at him. Something about the way he was looking at her made her stomach twist. Understanding and acceptance. It was like he expected her to refuse to work with him. That made her bristle a little, but not enough to get snappish. She lowered her eyes back to her shaking hands, staring at them and she bit her lower lip, making a difficult decision.

“Fenris said that he told you I was hurt, but he didn’t tell you how I’d been hurt,” she said, her voice quiet and her words halting as she forced them out.

He paused, considering her for a long moment. Then, he nodded his head in agreement. “He told me you were fragile, that you’d been harmed badly enough to require the healer. He used an experience of his own to illustrate things that can cause that, rather than breaking a confidence with you.”

She bit her lower lip harder, curling her hands into fists, trying to think about what she could say about it without making the beautiful day turn dark for her. She didn’t want to go through another panic attack. They were still frequent enough that she relished every moment she didn’t have one.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m aware that whatever happened was bad.” His voice had turned gentle and when she looked at him, she found he was looking away from her, a complicated sort of look on his face. “I know what sort of man Marcas is. While I haven’t seen first hand what he’s done, I’ve heard enough rumors about the sorts of things that go on in the Shadow Kingdom. In particular to those who are powerless to fight back.”

Powerless. That wasn’t a bad way of describing how she’d felt while she was there.

“It’s not just what happened there,” she admitted, the words coming out slow and stilted. “It started before I left home. You remember the panic attack I had after I met you in the tunnels?”

He nodded, his expression serious as he looked towards her, again.

“I didn’t notice before you said you couldn’t hear the sounds. I was in an accident, the day I got dragged into the Underground. Behind me, then back left, then right, then this crunching sound. I don’t think I could have explained why the noises scared me so badly until after I realized they were just in my head…” She curled her hands into her skirt, biting her lower lip hard to keep herself focused. “It’s from the accident. I was driving, and a car rear ended me, then two more hit mine, and then I hit a light pole, I think. I looked up after, and there was this dark figure staring at me. He was the only one not trying to help. I know now that it was...him. Then, I wasn’t in my body, anymore. I don’t know how else to explain it. I was still aware, still me, but I could see my body still sitting in the car and that...person was right in front of me. He pushed me and I fell and blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the Shadow Kingdom.”

His eyes were fixed on her face when she lifted her gaze and looked at him. There was an intensity in that expression that made her uncomfortable and she averted her gaze from him. “There’s more, obvious, since I ended up here. But -”

“Thank you for sharing that much,” he said, his voice still quiet. There was a strange tightness in his voice, when he spoke that sounded strange. After a moment, he got to his feet. “Come along. We can work by the other table. Correspondence needs sorted and filed. I’ve a few missives I need to write and a settlement regarding a damaged chicken - don’t ask.”

She bit back the urge to do so, lifting her brow as she stood and moved towards the chair by the low table on the less formal side of his office. “A chicken.”

He looked towards her and she felt a curious tickle in the back of her throat that she hadn’t felt in what felt like years. It felt like a laugh.

“Goblins take their chickens very seriously, Goblinskin. There’s always something involving a chicken.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Olivia had taken note within a few weeks of working with Goblinskin that the girl was a diligent worker. She was never late, worked as hard as Olivia did, and never issued a complaint regarding tasks. Her hand was tidy, and she definitely had a knack for shorthand. Even though she admitted that some of the terms she was given were ones she was unfamiliar with at first, she picked things up quickly.

Underneath all that fear, of which there was plenty, she had discovered that the girl had a sense of humor and a strong sense of justice and morality. One day, in particular, she’d come back with one of the fireys after a break and made him apologize to Olivia for making more work for her. It had surprised her, and after the firey was gone, she’d laughed that she hadn’t seen them act so repentant before.

Goblinskin simply stated they’d have to be told that what they were doing was wrong or they’d keep on doing it. She didn’t seem to realize that their willingness to comply had nothing to do with being told and everything to do with her being the one to tell them. No, the girl didn’t understand that in the slightest. She also didn’t seem to notice that after the first day, Jareth hadn’t requested that the girl bring any more of the reports. He still checked on her, but he never did so while the girl was there. Olivia couldn’t quite place why the king’s interest amused her, but it did. Even now, weeks later, he didn’t approach her, directly.

She suspected that had to do with Fenris’s conversation with him. One that had left her beloved trembling and afraid, that had dredged up memories that resulted in nightmares for days. She and Fenris were used to the nightmares. They’d both endured more than their fair share.

Still, it was good to see that the king wasn’t beyond reason and understanding. Perhaps she’d been wrong regarding how their history would affect him. It was quite interesting to her, the amount of concern he continued to show for the girl.

“Goblinskin, please pass me the tincture of valerian?” She extended her hand, expecting the vial to be placed in it a moment later. Instead, her hand hung empty in the space for a long moment. She blinked, lifting her gaze from the potion she was working on. She found the girl staring at a spot on the wall, not moving, not seeming to mentally be there, at all. She considered the girl for a long moment, circling around the table towards her, keeping her movements slow.

She recognized this. She’d experienced it, herself, a long time ago. She didn’t want to frighten the girl, so she shifted, taking the vial that sat behind her, humming quietly and waiting for the girl to start to return to herself. She thought that using her real name might bring her back, but she’d given a false name for a reason. It wasn’t a poor choice, if Olivia was perfectly honest. After all, when you didn’t know if you could trust a faerie creature, a false name was safer than a real one. So, instead of pulling the girl back, she tapped a bit of the tincture into the sleeping potion she was working on and set it to simmer.

She kept watch over the girl for a long moment, and when she saw her eyes starting to refocus, she knew she’d come back from wherever she’d been. The anxiety that started to spike in her eyes saddened her. She kept close to her side, working on the potion, hearing the quiet sound of panicked breaths.

Once the potion was at the point it just needed to cool, she turned towards the girl, wiping her hands on her apron, giving her a bright smile. “We should have tea. Go have a seat in one of the chairs, and I’ll see that some is brought to us.”

Goblinskin jumped, looking towards her through wide-eyes and then she heaved a quiet breath, nodding her head. “I’m sorry. I must have been elsewhere, mentally.”

“It’s fine. That means it’s a good time for us to take a break.” She gave her a warm smile and headed towards the door to wave down a goblin. She requested a tea service and headed back towards Goblinskin was sitting. There was a tight furrow in the girl’s brow. Rather than commenting on it, she took a moment to jot down a few notes for the potion she was working on. “We haven’t had much time to just talk, and my lover is fond of telling me I don’t rest often enough, anyways.”

“Sarah inclined her head, frowning a bit in confusion, but she relaxed into her chair a bit. “I just don’t want to end up being forced to leave because I can’t carry my weight.”

Olivia looked towards her, lifting a brow, and her lips pulled into a slow smile. She didn’t understand, yet, that once she was acknowledged as a refugee by the King he wouldn’t send her away. That was fine, she’d have time to learn that particular truth.

There was a quiet knock at the door and when it opened, Olivia found Fenris standing there with a tray in hand and an amused look on his handsome face. She blinked in surprise and turned towards him fully.

“Fenris.” She moved towards him, taking the tray and noted there was an extra cup on it. Amused suspicion tore through her and she looked up into his eyes, feeling her lips twisting into a smile that was wider. “Were you coming to make me take a break?”

“I thought the two of you could use one,” he admitted, and leaned down, kissing her on the lips. It took all of her concentration to not drop the tray to grab him and hold on for a little longer. But he was pulling away and she fought to not giggle and blush.

“Come on, then,” she said and gestured towards the seats where Goblinskin had already settled. When she turned, she found the girl standing again, looking at them with wide eyes. Her eyes moved from her to Fenris and then back, her confusion clear.

“Fenris?” Goblinskin asked, her tone a little shaky. “What are you doing here?”

Olivia set the tray down on the low table in front of the seats and pretended to ignore the conversation.

“I have mentioned before that the healer doesn’t take breaks often enough for my liking,” he pointed out. Olivia could hear the smile in his voice. “Olivia and I have been friends and lovers for a very long time. I noticed over the last few days that you seem to have the same problem that she does. You work so hard that you can barely move at the end of the day.”

“I didn’t realize...that you two were talking about each other,” the girl admitted.

Fenris helped Goblinskin back into her chair and took the one opposite them. Olivia glanced at them from under her brows, her lips quirking into a smile. “We’re very good at separating our work from our private lives. With good reason. You know we’re both friends with the king. Being able to draw that line between the two is partially why we’re able to be.”

Once everyone was seated and comfortable, Olivia dressed their tea and leaned back, considering how to bring up the topic on her own mind for a long moment.

“That line,” she said, after a long moment,” is why Jareth doesn’t push either of us regarding what happened to you. And why he won’t push you about it, either.”

“Not that he isn’t grumpy about us keeping secrets,” Fenris acknowledged.

Olivia noted that the girl looked a little green and was having trouble breathing, again. She glanced towards Fenris and gestured towards her with her chin. She saw concern flash on his face when he saw the look in the girl’s eyes. The silence hung in the air for a long moment before Olivia started to speak, again.

“We have a condition, here, that we call battle trauma.” As she started speaking, Goblinskin’s gaze fixed on her face, again. “In spite of the implications of the name, it can arise from different situations. Being in a violent battle is one, but personal trauma, long term abuse, and things like that can cause it. You’re displaying symptoms of it.”

Goblinskin straightened, looking startled. “I’m...what?”

Olivia reached over the table towards her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. She felt Fenris’s hand on her shoulder, the caress of his thumb in a slow circle. She took a moment and gathered her thoughts before she focused them into words. “Jareth told me that he saw you experience auditory hallucinations, when he first brought you to the castle. Your hands have battle tremors, and sometimes you stare off into space, like you’re not really in your own body. I could claim the last one was you being deep in thought, but when you return you seem unaware how long you’ve been like that. That’s just what I’ve seen since I started working with you, or heard second hand.”

Goblinskin shivered, her hands scrubbing over her arms as if she was trying to rub warmth into them. “It’s complicated. I...I can’t talk about it. I barely managed -” She stopped herself, looking into her tea as though perplexed for a moment.

Olivia and Fenris glanced at each other in interest at what she ‘barely managed’, but didn’t press her further on that.

“We’re not asking you to,” Fenris said, his voice gentle and quiet. It was the same tone he used when she would wake up from bad nightmares, to help soothe her. “Olivia and I know the signs of it so well because we’ve both lived through it, ourselves. When you’re ready to talk about it, you’re welcome to talk with either of us. But pretending that the trauma didn’t happen isn’t going to help you heal from it.”

Olivia watched as the girl curled in on herself and squeezed the hand she still held. She understood how hard it could be to open up enough to be vulnerable again. Goblinskin lifted her eyes and looked at her, and Olivia gave her a warm smile. “It’s okay to take your time healing. These kinds of wounds take a long time to repair, and magic can’t fix it. But we’ll help you get as close to who you were before it as we can. I promise.”

Tears filled the girl’s eyes and she bit her lower lip. After a long moment of silence, Goblinskin nodded, those tears falling behind her mask. A shuddering breath escaped her as if she’d been holding it for days.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Weeks turned to months, and during that time, a rotation had started to keep Goblinskin’s days occupied. Twice a week, she helped Hoggle in the gardens. Three days, she helped Olivia with errands, notation, and whatever else she needed. One day a week, she assisted Jareth in his office, sorting his correspondence. The final day, Jareth insisted that she use it to rest and recover. In order to assure this, he gave her access to his considerable library.

Even with the mask on her face, he’d seen the way she lit up when he’d shown it to her for the first time. Her eyes wide with wonder, lips parted in surprise. She’d rushed to the shelves, her fingers hungrily running over the leather spines of the books and when she turned towards him he felt that strange twisting sensation, again.

He’d always known she loved to read, but he hadn’t been prepared for that look on her face. A look she’d given him for a gift that wasn’t even meant to be a big deal.

He couldn’t even begin to decipher why it had given him that queer feeling. He wasn’t certain he’d ever even begin to understand it. He wasn’t certain how he felt about it at all. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but he wasn’t sure he liked it, either. It felt hot, like there was energy building up under his skin. Like he was ready to burst from it. All it took after he showed her the library was just the memory of her eyes looking so bright and happy - the first time he’d seen her that way since she’d been here.

That smile was the first hint of the girl she’d been since she’d arrived here.

Today was a day she was working with Hoggle and he could hear them in the gardens, voices filtering up through his open office window. 

A quiet knock at his office door drew his attention and he looked up as it opened. In the doorway he saw Fenris standing there with Olivia, both of them looking at him with resigned looks on their faces. He shifted, sitting upright in his chair and lifting a brow as they entered, shutting the door behind them.

“Is everything alright?”

“The goblins know who she is.”

Jareth straightened a bit more in his seat and he lifted a brow in interest. They approached, sitting in the high backed chairs in front of his desk. “What do you mean, they know?”

“I’m fairly certain everyone does, at this point, Jareth,” Olivia said, her voice quiet. “Except the wise man, and he’s always been a little slow.”

“His hat, however, definitely knows.” Fenris gave a quiet snort of amusement. “I’m not certain how much longer this masquerade is going to be maintained. If she finds out that you know as well, she’s going to run. And you can’t protect her if she isn’t here. I’m pretty certain that if the other kingdoms got their hands on her, she’d end up in sorry shape. Plenty of bastards in the Underground who would love to stick a knife in your side. Especially if they figure out you’ve been protecting her.”

Jareth hated to admit it, but Fenris was right. The only place in the Underground she was safe was here. A sigh escaped him and he rubbed the furrow that was forming in his brow from the worries this girl gave him. There weren’t many options to keep her from finding out he knew. After a long moment, he extended a hand to his side and snapped his fingers.

A round little goblin popped in beside him, looking up to him through the slit in his helm. It saluted and it’s hand clanged loudly against the cast iron cauldron that served as a helmet. “Kinga.”

“Fodder, I want you to pass a message through the goblin ranks. I know they’re aware of the real identity of Goblinskin. They are to keep it a secret from me. If I know who she is, she’ll feel unsafe. If she feels unsafe, she’ll run away and be in danger. So you make certain they get that order. They are not to tell me under any circumstances. And if she finds out they know, they are to tell her that they will not tell me. Do you understand?”

Fodder looked up at him, just two almost glowing eyes from under the cauldron and then he caught a flash of teeth. “Yessir, Kinga.”

“Explain it to me, then.”

“Lady will be scared if you know who she is, so they can’t tell you who she is, and if she finds out they know, they say they aren’t going to tell you.”

“Well done.” He gestured, and the goblin scrambled away, off to spread his information. Jareth just hoped it didn’t end up turning into the Underground’s worst game of telephone ever.

“This is either going to go perfectly or it will backfire in the most spectacular way I’ve ever seen.” Olivia’s tone was nothing but dry amusement.

Jareth gave her a sly grin, his own amusement pushing him. “When are things ever not like that when goblins are involved, Olivia?”

They stayed for lunch, and after they left, he got to his feet, standing by the window and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. He inhaled deeply and looked down into the gardens on this side of the castle, watching the girl and dwarf working together. He blew a plume of clove scented smoke out, watching it swirl in the afternoon air.

He admitted to himself he was curious about the girl, now. She seemed to be growing more comfortable here, with each day that she wasn’t harmed. Like the time was helping her get stronger. It made him hope that whatever damage had been inflicted wasn’t as permanent as what had been done to other refugees in his kingdom. Then again, perhaps she was just acclimating to the castle. She was still nervous whenever she was around him. It didn’t interfere with her work when she was assisting him, however. It was as if she got so focused on her work that it was all that existed or even mattered.

That said, once or twice, her fingers had brushed his hand when they reached for the same piece of mail and her reaction was always the same. Her hand jerked away as if the contact had burned her, and then she’d look like she expected him to punish her. That troubled him. It annoyed him how much it troubled him.

He tried to not touch her. However, the more time he spent around her, the longer she spent around him, he felt an increased desire to do so. To brush loose hair over her ear, to pat her back at the end of the day. He tried to ignore those desires because she was still so afraid to be around him at all. He didn’t want her to ever think that he expected her to be amenable to physical contact. Even if he found he wanted that contact.

He couldn’t have explained it to anyone, even himself. He’d been intrigued by her when she’d been a girl. So much defiance and innocence. But now he was learning about the woman she was, rather than the girl he’d imagined her to be. A part of him wished he’d taken time to discover that before she’d been dragged back to the Underground. To have approached and met her as she’d been before she’d become an unfortunate victim of Marcas’s cruelty. To see all the ways she’d changed from a spoiled brat after her time in the Labyrinth.

How much of who she was now was because of the trauma of what happened in the Shadow Kingdom, how much was from the lessons she’d learned during her run so few years ago, and how much was just part of who she was as a person?

No way to know any of that until she opened up to him more. That she’d told him of the accident she’d suffered at all was more than he’d expected after so little time. He heaved a sigh and another plume of clove scented smoke left him.

Before he could inhale again, a scream drew his attention and his eyes jerked down, finding the girl curled up on the ground, hands clasped over her ears. Hoggle was shaking her, as if to pull her out of whatever nightmare she’d been pulled into.

Jareth didn’t remember making the decision to go to her. Between the scream and his next breath, he was standing in the gardens, feet away from her. Hoggle’s eyes snapped towards him and he looked torn for a moment between his loyalty to the girl and his fear of his sudden appearance. He backed away a step, falling onto his backside. Jareth paid the dwarf no mind, just considered the girl for a long moment and noted her flailing was about to knock her mask loose. He dropped to a knee and with one hand, held the mask onto her face, the other resting on her shoulder to keep her still.

She flinched away from him, and it bruised his ego a bit, but he doubted she saw him in the first place.

“Goblinskin, attend,” he commanded, keeping his voice low as he spoke. The words grabbed her attention, and she lifted her eyes to look at him. When she stopped flailing in her panic, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Hoggle looking at him with a protective gleam in his eyes. He slanted a glance towards the dwarf and gave him a nod of acknowledgement before looking back towards the girl. “I believe you’ve worked enough for the day, Goblinskin. You’re to go to your room and rest for the remainder.”

She opened her mouth to object, and Hoggle caught her arm. “You’ve been working hard all morning, and you told me at breakfast you didn’t sleep good last night.”

Jareth lifted a brow at the words, suspecting that Hoggle was giving him the information, rather than reprimanding the girl.

“King’s orders,” Jareth said and he got to his feet, offering her his hand to aid her getting to her own. “Hogspit can keep you company if you wish, but you are going to rest. And if you argue, I’ll just put a sleeping spell on you. If you’re resting poorly, you will not work efficiently. I stated that people in this kingdom are my responsibility. That means ensuring their health and wellbeing as well. Come along, now.”

He could have been mistaken but he thought he saw a hint of a defiant glare under the mask and the urge to give her a patronizing, patient smirk hit him hard. As it was, a slow, lazy smile curved his lips, almost hoping she’d pit her stubbornness against him. However, after a long moment, her eyes averted, as if she’d lost the fight with herself and she put her hand on his. He didn’t rush her to her feet, letting her use him as an anchor and pull herself up on her own. She released it at once and looked towards Hoggle.”

“Will you? Keep me company, I mean?”

“‘Course,” the dwarf said, blustering a little. “Come on, let’s get you tucked in.”

Jareth looked around the gardens for a long moment and made a decision, then. He took a steadying breath and addressed the dwarf before he had gone far. “Before you retire to your home for the evening, I want you to report to me. That’s an order, Hoggle.”

He felt, more than saw, the dwarf jerk in shock when he said his actual name.

They all three stood there in silence for a moment before Hoggle started leading the girl inside. Once they were gone, he looked at the hand she’d taken and glared at it. It had felt annoyingly cold since she’d released it, even though there was no reason for that. The day was perfectly balmy, with soft sunshine overhead. The air around him was comfortable. Still, he noticed too keenly when her hand had released his.

What the devil was wrong with him?

It took a moment to shake the sensation off, and he flexed his hand as he headed back to his office, leaning forward in his chair and settling in to work. He’d forgotten his cigarette somewhere, but he ignored that, burying himself in his work to ignore the strange feeling he got whenever he looked at the girl. Paying attention to the correspondence helped him pretend that there wasn’t anything else bothering him.

That the blank look he’d seen in her eyes when he’d called her back from whatever nightmare she’d been in hadn’t bothered him. That her fear of him didn’t bother him.

He managed to pretend for a while, but when the monotony of the work caught up with him, he threw his pen to his desk and ink splattered across the blank paper beside his correspondence. The hand she’d used to get to her feet curled into a fist and he glared at it like it had betrayed him. He flexed again as if it would help him forget the feel of the warmth of her hand in his. A heaved sigh escaped him and he curled it into a fist, closing his eyes.

He hated that his temper and his patience were being tested like this. She was nothing more than a slip of a girl who he’d let play a game against him and she’d managed to scrape together a win. That win had put her in danger, so that’s why he felt a responsibility towards her, now. It had nothing to do with anything else. It had nothing to do with the fact that his eyes were drawn to her when she was sitting in his office with him, helping him with his paperwork. Nothing at all to do with the soft sound of her voice filtering up through the open window, or the soft laugh when he’d pass near the healer’s room to check in.

He’d tell himself that until he believed it.

Still, recently, he’d become more aware of her - of her presence, her scent, the shadows in her eyes, the curve of her smile.

Damn it all, he refused to think he’d gotten wound up over a mere mortal girl like her. Absolutely not. That had nothing to do with anything. There were no feelings. None, dammit.

He wasn’t certain how long he’d been pacing after he sprung up, but it was full dark when there was a knock at his office door. He’d been so deep in thought the sound startled him and he turned toward sit, snarling a bit. Still, he shook himself and gestured for the door to open. This time, he found Hoggle standing outside and looking nervous. He waved a hand for the dwarf to approach and once he did, closed the door behind him.

“Y-you wanted a report, your majesty. The gardens -”

“The report was an excuse, Hoggle. It’s been brought to my attention of late that I don’t know all of my subjects as well as I pretend to - including, even, those I call friends. You and your mother immigrated here, ages ago. I want your story. Why did you come to the Goblin Kingdom?

Hoggle looked startled by the question and then he shifted from one foot to the next, looking at the floor. “It’s complicated.”

Jareth returned to his chair, leaning back in it and lifting a brow at him. “As opposed to anyone else’s reasons?”

“Are you going to ask Fenris and Olivia?” The dwarf asked, scoffing at the idea, and crossing his arms, looking annoyed.

“Fenris volunteered his story, and I suspect it cost him for a while after he did. I’ll ask Olivia for her own when I stop valuing my neck quite so much. Suffice to say I’ve been allowing creatures from across the Underground to immigrate here as refugees without knowing any of their reasons. I know no one runs without reason, but at this point, not knowing the reasons is leading to ignorance on my own part and I’ll not suffer that. So you’ll share your story with me. Or will I have to go and ask your mother?”

Hoggle bristled at the ultimatum, glaring at him from under his bushy brows. He pulled the hat off his head and twisted it between his hands, thinking for a long moment. “Wasn’t her fault, ya know? She didn’t do nothing wrong. Wasn’t her fault. Was my fault, being born so ugly.”

Jareth lifted a brow and gestured for him to take a seat across the desk from him. “Have a seat, Hoggle.”

The dwarf looked surprised again, and then he did as he was told. His hands curled together around the hat, gripping so tight Jareth could see the skin of his knuckles turning light. It was a moment before Hoggle got his thoughts together enough to say much of anything. “The families didn’t know at the time, ya know? Not mum’s family, the ruling families, the upper classes. They just saw an uncommonly beautiful dwarf lady with larger than usual eyes. Didn’t know that her grandfather was Gibbergeist, a goblin of unusual stature and charm. So, when my mum married and had a boy-child, and it was a throwback to her grandfather, everyone assumed she’d been unfaithful to my father. After all, that was the only possible reason they could think of that such a beautiful couple could have such an ugly offspring.”

Jareth watched Hoggle for a long moment when he went silent, his brow furrowed in upset. “They ran you out?”

“Nah, they were going to kill her and me besides. Couldn’t have a bastard wandering around, right? Dwarf politics are funny like that.” He looked down at his hands, his face tired and sad. “When mum’s family found out, they bundled me and her up and told her to run. Goblin Kingdom’s the only one that doesn’t care why you’re there, right? ‘Sides, ‘s where her grandfather still was. Don’t regret coming here, not either of us. But mum wasn’t the same after it. But you gave her work, and me too when I was of age.”

“Why have you always been so afraid of me, then?”

Hoggle lifted his eyes and looked at him after a moment. “Because you’re still the king, and a fae besides. Not meaning no offense, but your kind aren’t known for kindness without expectation. Better known for cruelty and changeability and hiding your feelings behind a mask of arrogance. Fae are fickle. Ya smile, even to each other, and then you take a turn and stab another in the back. And unlike Fenris and Olivia, I’m a coward and quite fine with that.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable thing, he supposed, and it had never caused a real problem between the two of them. He considered the dwarf for a long moment and then nodded his head in acceptance. “Very well, then. You can return to your home. It is late and you’ve given me all the information that I require.”

Hoggle got to his feet and headed towards the door where he paused and looked back at the king. Jareth lifted a brow and then narrowed his eyes on him. “If’n you don’t mind me askin’ -”

“ _What_ , Hoggle?”

“You seem you’re takin’ a lot more interest in Goblinskin than you did any of the rest of us when we got here. Why is that?”

Jareth sat back, considering that for a long moment. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told that. Olivia and Fenris had both mentioned it. He couldn’t say he’d known her before, because Hoggle didn’t realize he’d known she was Sarah and if he told him, the coward would rat him out to the girl in a heartbeat. It also would do him no good to mention the burgeoning powers she appeared to have, yet. “She’s mortal, Hoggle. This isn’t like with you or Fenris or Olivia. She’s also off, as if in order to bring her here, a part of her was torn away from the rest. As a result, I have more things to take into consideration for her protection than I did for any other refugee before her. If part of her still resides above, then she’s at risk if anything happens to that part of her.”

Hoggle paled and straightened, as if he hadn’t considered that. “If that’s true, why don’t ya just send her back?!”

He didn’t answer to the dwarf, but their goals were similar. “Because, Hoggle, if Marcas has his eyes on her, sending her back will just put her at further risk. No, this requires a delicate balancing act. So, for now, just do as you have been. Be her friend and confidant. Let me worry about the bigger things. Like what the kingdom is going to do when Marcas inevitably figures out that she was smuggled out of his kingdom by one of my spies.”

Hoggle paled further, the only required acknowledgement that he knew exactly what sort of man Marcas was, and then he nodded his head, a stubborn look forming on his face. “I’ll keep the little lady guarded while she’s with me, your majesty.”

“I know you will, Hoggle. As I said before, go home. She’s safe enough for the evening.” The dwarf did something unusual that surprised him, then. He dropped into a short bow, a clear sign of respect, and then hurried out of the room. Jareth watched him go, smothering his shock at this.

Once he was gone, he tapped his fingertip under his nose. He doubted the dwarf noticed how telling his action was, that his concern for the girl overwhelmed his fear. Better to not tell him, he decided, and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.

It was late and he was tired. He pinched the bridge of his nose and released a slow breath before getting to his feet and heading to his room. As ever, he passed through the hall where Goblinskin’s door should be and paused, closing eyes and listening for any sounds within. When he heard nothing, he continued onwards towards his own room.

They were right. He was more intent on her than he’d been with other refugees. More aware of her, more concerned for her. Damned if he could explain why. Their history was the excuse he could use, but he wasn’t certain it was as simple as that. He suspected he was starting to care about her, as much as he did Olivia and Fenris. He wasn’t just worried about her healing or her mental state. He found that he looked forward to that one day every week where she’d visit him in his office and help him with work. He found himself anticipating it each week, making certain that they’d get a tea service around lunch, regardless of if she would talk with him or not. It was as if the mere idea of having a chance to monopolize her attention for that brief time pleased him.

It was a concern, but no matter how he promised himself each week that he wouldn’t let himself get wound up about it, this time, every day she’d come to his offices, he was.

Once he was in his rooms, he threw himself under the shower, glaring at the tiled wall with intense frustration.

He didn’t like it. Whatever this was, he didn’t think he liked it. Why should he feel nervous butterflies in his stomach before she arrived at his office? Why should his skin crave the warmth of hers? Why did he find that he missed the sound of her voice whenever she was working with Olivia instead of in the gardens?

He needed to cut whatever this was off before he ended up more twisted up than he already felt.

The question was how to do that without causing her more harm.

He supposed he could have sent her to the kitchens, rather than having her spend time helping him. But he hadn’t, and now he wanted that company. He didn’t want to send her somewhere else to work. In fact, he found that he wanted her to come work with him more often, though she was so efficient that he didn’t have enough work to justify more than once a week.

A snarl curled his lips and he punched the shower wall, ignoring the ache in his bones afterwards. Instead of the pain driving the thoughts from his mind, it made him realize he was fighting against a rising tide. A groan escaped him and he leaned his forehead against his arm, closing his eyes in resignation.

“Woman, what are you doing to me?”


	11. Lessons in Control

“Break.”

The Goblin King’s voice startled her out of her concentration. She’d been so focused on filing his correspondence that she hadn’t realized the passage of time. She lifted her head and looked to the window and found the sun high in the sky. Biting her lower lip, she glanced towards the low table on the casual side of the office and found a tea tray sitting there. With a jolt, she realized that he always got tea around midday, which meant she'd been working for four hours, already.

She released her breath slowly, and moved towards the chair she usually took. Her nerves, as usual, scraped at her when she was near the king. It wasn't something he'd commented on since she first arrived, but she knew he was still aware of it. The longer she stayed here, the more frightened she became of what he would do when he finally found out who she really was.

Still, now she was less afraid that he'd hurt her like - no, she couldn't let herself think about that. Now, she was scared that when he found out he'd be angry that she lied to him, or worse, he'd look at her in pity or disgust.

Much like the first time, he poured the tea for her and she found herself transfixed by his hands. She found that she stared at them quite often. He was graceful - she'd always known that - with not a single movement he made seeming wasted. The only time he seemed to relax around her, however, was when he'd take a cigarette by his open window late every afternoon.

"You seem to be acclimating to the castle rather well."

His voice was quiet when he spoke, but she hadn't expected it and it made her jump q bit. Most of the time, they took their breaks in silence and she appreciated that. She wasn't certain she knew the sort of smalltalk that would keep a king entertained. It took her a moment before an answer to the statement formed.

"Well enough, your majesty."

He glanced at her from under his brows, and she saw a bit of a smile curve his lips. She was beginning to wonder when the smile had started to seem less sinister to her.

"Good. That is a relief. I have been hoping that might be the case."

She wasn't certain what to say to that, drawing her tea closer to her. Glancing down into it, she blinked, finding he'd already dressed it for her. She cautiously took a cookie and sat back, nibbling it for a moment while she thought of something to say.

"Everyone here has been very kind. I'm not always sure how to behave, however."

Particularly around him, because she found him so confusing. Everything she'd seen since she'd come here seemed at odds with her memories of him.

He nodded in acceptance and she noted that he didn't seem keen on speaking, at least for now. He leaned back into his chair, relaxing with his own tea, sipping it in silence, his eyes turned towards the open window.

She retreated for the moment, not certain, again, what to say in his presence. Being with him like this still felt awkward and confusing, but every time she thought she knew what she should say she'd look at him and forget her words. She wasn’t certain why.

“What did you do before you came here?”

She blinked, surprised by that question. Lifting her eyes, she found him still looking out the window, an odd, wistful expression on his face. She chewed how to answer that over for a moment, then took a steadying breath. “I worked in a secretarial office, doing administrative duties. Not unlike what I do when I’m working with you. Most everything else I know how to do is because of my personal life. My parents both worked, so I had to learn how to take care of myself and my -”

She cut words short, realizing she’d almost mentioned her brother. Would that be weird? Surely people in the Underground also have siblings. As long as she didn’t give his name, that should be okay, right?

An ache burned in her chest, nostalgia and longing twisted up until it hurt, and an unexpected and unwanted tear fell from her eye and wound down her cheek. She gave a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden surge of emotions that thinking of her brother brought on. 

Damn, she missed her brother. She missed him so badly. She didn’t even dare to think of his name, because she was in the Underground and similarly to how she’d started to think of herself as Goblinskin, she tried to not think of everything she missed from home. 

“Goblinskin?” She blinked hard and looked back at the King, trying to steady herself. He looked alarmed, and all of his focus was on her.

“I’m sorry. I just remembered I was supposed to pick my brother up from school the day of the accident.” She closed her eyes hard, trying to stem the sudden surge of emotions, mentally shaking herself. She started to lift a hand to brush away her tears, but before she could, soft leather swiped the tears from her face when they passed under the edge of her mask. A quiet gasp escaped her and her eyes snapped open. She found Jareth leaning across the table, looking at her with a serious expression. His eyes showed regret in them.

When had she started being able to see things like that?

“You needn’t apologize for that, Goblinskin. It’s expected that you’d feel homesick.” He lowered his hand as if he hadn’t done anything at all, leaned back, and went back to looking out the window. She saw a furrow between his brow, as if he was thinking about something very hard.

She was still startled from the brief contact when he’d touched her. She wanted to snap at him that he’d promised he wouldn’t do that, but it wasn’t the first time he had, since then. It seemed silly to complain about it, now. Whenever it happened, it was never for long, and he never drew attention to it. It also wasn’t something he did often. When she’d had the panic attack when he’d found her, and second he’d seen, when she was in the garden - she blinked, remembering one hand on her shoulder and the other over her face, as if keeping her mask in place.

Startled by that revelation, she looked at him in confusion and took a steadying breath.

“Would you like to see him again?”

The question took her off guard and her eyes jerked to his face, finding him still casually looking out the window. “What?”

He looked at her again, a patient sort of look in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, a crystal formed on his fingertips.

Seeing that made her shiver a bit, but he simply set it on the table between them. When he looked back at her, his face was very serious. “I can’t promise it won’t make the homesickness worse. However, if you say the name of whoever you wish to see to the crystal, you will see them on the surface. It will at least allow you to see that they are well.”

She set her tea aside, and her hands curled over the crystal. She could understand the gift he was offering her and her heart twisted in an agonizing way. Biting her lip hard, she slowly shook her head, and withdrew her hands without the crystal. “I...thank you. But no. I think you’re right. It will only make the homesickness worse, rather than ease any pain. Being able to see my family, but not able to speak to them? Not reassure them or tell them that I’m okay?” She shook her head again. “No. That would be too much to bear. But thank you, for the offer.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then he gave a resigned sort of smile and nodded his head in understanding. Still, she thought she saw sadness in his eyes. “You understand why I can’t just send you home, don’t you?”

“Because he knows where I am, there.” She gave a smile that she knew would look bitter. “Because if he finds me again, there might not be any way to get me out of there, especially since I don’t have any power.”

Jareth leaned forward, taking the crystal back and considering the surface of it for a long moment without saying anything at all. “You have more power than you realize, Goblinskin. Though I don’t think it’s power in the way he would understand it.” 

He lifted the crystal to his lips and blew. It floated gently out the window, like it had become nothing more than a bubble. She watched it bob on the air, until she couldn’t see it any longer. Then, his words caught up with her and her eyes snapped back towards him.

“Magic is a funny thing. Most of the time, when it starts to show itself it isn’t something we’d notice. A stubborn lock turns when you want it to turn. A corridor lighting itself because it’s hard for you to see. Weather holding out until you make it to your destination.”

Curious and confused, she watched as he turned to look back at her. “Luck, you mean?”

“Luck is, at its heart, a form of magic, too. But no, that’s not what I was referring to. Sometimes, people who are mortal have magic that allows them to bend the world around them just a little bit. In the above, it’s barely noticed - or written off as luck. Like I said, it’s small things like a key turning in a stubborn lock - but only when you are the one turning. However, you’ve come to the Underground, now. That means whatever magic you already had is starting to grow exponentially. You’re starting to bend the world much more than a little bit.”

Little things. Like the front door that never seemed to want to lock. Like her old car starting on cold mornings. Like stop lights changing green for her when she was running late.

“I don’t understand?”

“One, the Labyrinth seems to be unusually receptive to your influence. I say unusually, because the only other person it’s ever been so reactive to is me, and I’m its King. Second, when you’ve spent time in the gardens with Hoggle, the weeds start to grow slower, but the flowers flourish. You don’t get lost in the castle, but the one time you did, you were trying to find my office when you were terrified of me. Fenris said the corridor that should have brought you here took you both somewhere else entirely.” He sipped his tea, and snagged a cookie, biting into it.

She shook her head, not certain she believed him, but blown away by the possibility. “But I didn’t _do_ anything-?”

“Not consciously, no.” He set the remains of the cookie on his saucer. “I’ve been trying to give you time before having this conversation with you. I’d hoped that you wouldn’t be so afraid of me before we started. Since you’ve acclimated to the castle, however, it’s time to start helping you get a handle on this power that seems to be growing in you. Because if it’s left uncontrolled, during a time of stress, you could accidentally cause irreparable harm to the world.”

To the world. He said that so easily. Like she had some genuine, real, world changing power that was cause for fear or alarm. She shook her head, and thought about getting to her feet and quitting the office, but as she gripped the arms of the chair he leaned towards her, pinning her with his clear blue eyes.

“You don’t have to believe me, Goblinskin. But you need to understand that from now on, our working days together are going to be half-days, and after the work is done, you’re going to be taking lessons with me until you can control this power.”

She jumped to her feet, starting to pace the room, a restless response she couldn’t control. Shaking her head, she forced the words out of her. “I don’t have any power.”

He stood up as well, looking at her with that clear, understanding gaze. He extended his hand towards her and she shook her head, frightened.

“I can’t have power, because that would mean that _he_ was right, that -” That the story might be right and that was impossible. But he was saying that being in the Underground is what was making this power grw, and didn’t that happen to people and things who spent too much time in the faerie lands? “I can’t, please.”

He stepped towards her, taking one of her hands and holding it. His expression was more honest and calm than she’d ever seen. “Whether or not you think you can, you do. And part of my promise of protection means I have to make sure you can control this power without it destroying you or my kingdom or the Underground as a whole. I’m asking for you to put this much faith in me. Let me teach you how to use your power so it doesn’t end up causing harm to you, me, or my kingdom. Alright?”

Her breath left her in a shaking sigh and she remembered other times. The promotion she’d unexpectedly gotten at work, when she’d wanted to save for a new car. The way her old car wouldn’t start for anyone else. Then, she remembered the door that had appeared in her room in the Shadow Kingdom when she’d had her panic attack before Fenris got her out. She remembered the way the Labyrinth never let her get lost and how it had closed the door when she’d been afraid to go to the castle. The way it let her remove her doorway, something she now remembered had confused Jareth, initially.

After several nerve-wrecking moments, she lifted her trembling hand and set it in his, lifting her frightened eyes to look up at his face. She felt his hand close around hers, but not tightly trapping it. It was safety and security he was offering, now, something he’d been offering since she arrived. Support that she’d never suspected she’d get from him. Her lower lip trembled hard for a moment because she knew that if he knew who she was, he’d never give this.

His eyes were still calm and serious as they pinned hers. Then, they flicked down to her hand in his and a small smile curved his lips. She wondered why she didn’t find his smile so sinister anymore.

“Thank you.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Their first several lessons went about as well as he expected they would. She’d always allowed her power to flow naturally through her emotions. Now she was having to reign those emotions in and learn to command the power without their aid. As a result, things exploded in their faces several times. The first time, they’d been trying something simple - conjuring a crystal. She’d panicked and accidentally teleported herself out of his office and into her very locked room.

It took an hour of knocking on the door before she’d calmed down enough to come out and try again.

Fenris and Olivia kept out of it, even though they knew of her lessons, and helpfully reminded him that he _could_ just teleport into her room and remove her from it. He didn’t bother going into all the reasons he knew he couldn’t do that - especially since he suspected she was starting to actually trust him a little.

After those first few lessons, she’d tried to give up. He’d snarled and called her a quitter and sent her away from his office immediately. She hadn’t been back in more than a week and he was starting to regret losing his temper with her. Especially since that was the only real time he got with her.

On her day off, the following week, he found her in the library surrounded by piles of books that she was pouring over and when she noticed his presence she gave him a sour look. Rather than commenting on her studying, he found a few books that he’d been looking for to help her, and went to stretch out on the couch in the room and read as well. He wasn’t willing to let her run him out of his own library.

The silence in the room was stifling, but he was glad that she was finding her spine again, at least.

Around midday, he called for tea and paused in his own reading. He sat up, and one of the books she had in front of her caught his attention. He blinked in surprise and reached out to take the book. He jumped in surprise when the pen she smacked his hand away with another book. He focused on the cover of that one and felt a smile curve his lips for the first time since she’d stormed out of his office.

“I thought you said you’d ‘given up’.” He kept his tone leaning towards mocking. Her gaze met his, eyes narrowed on him. He could almost see her temper flare.

“No one gets to call me a quitter. Prick.”

He lifted his brows in surprise at the word, but a curious sensation of delight flooded him. He wondered for the first time if he wasn’t slightly masochistic in nature.

They were still looking at each other when the tea service was brought in and he noticed the goblin looking at Goblinskin with a near worshipping look on her face. “Lira, that will be all.”

The goblin scooted out of the room like he’d set her on fire, but glanced back and giggled at them from the door.

Once she was gone, he noticed there were two cups on the tray and huffed in amusement, pouring tea for himself and the girl, dressing hers first, and sliding that cup towards her. He finished dressing his own tea before he looked at her. When he did, he felt a surge of distress, because he found she’d gone paler than fresh milk, her freckles standing out in stark contrast. He knew that what she’d said - what she’d called him - had caught up with her. He sat back with his own tea, looking at her over the cup for a long moment as he took a sip, considering what to do with that.

“It’s good to see your spine showing. I’d been starting to worry it was completely broken.”

She straightened, her expression changing to one of surprise. “What?”

“You called me a prick and smacked my hand with a book.” He took another sip of his tea and using it to hide his lips twisting into a smirk, knowing his eyes were sparkling with mischief. “It only took what? Three months?”

She stopped, realizing what he’d said and she looked down at her hands. He wasn’t certain what was going on in her head until she spoke. “I wonder if time here passes like it does, there…”

“Hard to tell, sometimes. I wish I could promise that you’d wake up the day after the accident when I’m finally able to return you home. But my powers have limited reach when it comes to reordering time. More than a few hours can cause serious problems. More than thirteen isn’t safe.” That regret was sincere. While she was here, she was missing her life, there. Missing her brother’s milestones. He knew that must tear her up, inside.

She was quiet for a long moment, then she looked at him. “You’re not angry with me for calling you that? For hitting you?”

The question startled a laugh out of him and he leaned back on the couch, looking at her from across the stacks of books between them. As he looked at her, she quickly returned her gaze to her hands, staring at them as if they were fascinating to her, curved around the teacup as they were.

“Of course I’m not angry! At least if you’re hissing and spitting at me a little, I know you aren’t petrified of me. Why do you think I don’t punish Hoggle every time _he_ talks back to me?”

"I'm shocked you actually know his name," she said, frowning at him a bit.

"Surprise, he teased, hiding another smirk behind his cup. She was still looking at him and he forced himself to not meet her gaze, even though each time he did, it thrilled him. Especially now, when he was seeing flashes of her under the fear and trauma. He tried to ignore the urge and her scrutiny. "There are few inhabitants of the Labyrinth that I don't know the name of that arent recent arrivals." She had the grace to glance from him at that. "I even have a few of their true names, and while that gives me power over them, I seldom find the need to use that sort of coercion. It's generally a sign of trust to share such a thing with others. Among the courts, we never offer our true name - there's too much risk involved if we give another that much power over us."

“What’s the difference between any other name and a true name?” She asked after considering that for a long moment.

“A true name is a name that your soul resonates with. Sometimes, it’s the same name your parents give you, but usually it’s the one that we choose for ourselves. I know they use codes in the Shadow Kingdom. That’s why Fenris went as Little Wolf - and since I’ve heard you calling him by Fenris, I’ll go ahead and tell you that he afforded you a huge amount of trust by giving you that name. It’s not his birth name, it’s the name the Goblins gave to him when he came here. While it means “Little Wolf” in an old form of elvish, knowing the meaning isn’t the same as knowing the name and that isn’t the same as being given it voluntarily by another person. Just _knowing_ a name doesn’t give anyone power over you. Olivia offered hers because she knew Fenris gave his to you - and understood the trust that he’d given you, a trust you haven’t broken. That’s reason enough for her to trust you to not use that power against her. And since you’ve heard them say my name, you should understand that this doesn’t give you special power over me, because _I_ never offered it to you.”

She sagged back into her chair, thinking for a long moment. He could almost see the cogs moving in her head. “Is that why you asked what you should call me instead of asking for my name?”

“Quick study,” he acknowledged, flashing her a smile.

“Not that quick,” she said and he watched her sag in on herself. “The magic lessons have been a disaster.”

“Goblinskin,” he said, setting his tea aside and leaning towards her, meeting her gaze for a long moment. Then, he picked up the book he had been reading. A book on magic theory that he was half-way through in hopes that it would lead him to some breakthrough on how to better help her get a handle on her powers. “Magic isn’t a quick lesson and you’re done. It’s a lifetime of study if you wish to do more than create pretty crystals and glamorous and illusions.”

She looked at the book he was holding and her brows lifted in surprise, then her eyes met his, again. The direct eye contact always gave him a feeling like an electric jolt from his toes to the top of his head and left him feeling electrified. He couldn’t drag his eyes from hers any more than he’d been able to stop looking at her when he’d first given her use of the library. It startled him, for a moment, to realize that she wasn’t just pretty. Even with half of her face hidden behind a mask, she was beautiful.

Shit. He didn’t need to be thinking about that, right now.

He dragged his eyes from hers, and flipped the book open to the page he was on. When he found the notes he’d marked for her, he set the book on the table and turned it towards her. “Though I admit that as a teacher, I probably have much to learn. Patience, in particular.”

“I have my own books to study,” she objected, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to intrude on yours -”

“Stars, woman, just read the passage. These books are mine and I’ve read all of them at least once. This is a refresher for me. Largely to see if I can find any other way to help you get control of your powers.

Her eyes met his and there, again, was that jolt. Still, he didn’t pull his eyes from hers, holding the book out to her. He was challenging her, this time, and he knew it. He hoped that the challenge he was issuing would be met, rather than turned away from. Regardless, it would help him gauge how she was healing. It took time, Fenris and Olivia kept telling him, but if she was already calling him a prick, it made him hope that she would keep pushing back against him.

She reached a trembling hand forward and took the book from his hand. She kept looking him in the eyes for a long moment, before confusion filtered into her gaze. He wished he could have known what was going on in her head, right then. After a moment, she dropped her gaze, and released, he wished she’d look at him again before he pushed that thought away. She read the passage he’d indicated, and her eyes widened. He watched her skim the passage several times before she lifted her eyes and looked at him, again. This time, her expression had changed and what he saw there thrilled him.

“I want to try this, next time.”

He restrained the urge to smile, seeing how serious she was right then. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. “Very well,” he said, nodding in agreement. “Next time.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Fenris had taken note of how much time Sarah and Jareth were spending together before anyone else. It helped that his work put him in generally closer contact with his king than many others, including Olivia when he was actually at the castle. Today, he’d been invited to tea after giving his king his report, and suspected that Jareth was turning over things in his head. Meaning the king had something he wanted to talk about, but wasn’t certain how to get there. Fenris looked over his tea cup, feeling his lips curved in a knowing sort of smile that would make his king bristle, so he did his best to hide it.

“Did something particularly good happen outside of your report of troop movements near my kingdom, Fenris?” Jareth asked, eyeing him. Fenris could feel his eyes pinning him and lifted his gaze towards his friend.

“Maybe you should tell me, Jareth. I’ve noticed you’re spending a lot of time with our lovely refugee.”

Jareth seemed to startle a bit, as if he hadn’t expected that turn of conversation. Then, his eyes turned into the creamy depths of his own cup.

“Isn’t that to be expected? She works with me once a week, after all.”

Fenris snorted, downing the rest of his tea and deciding to tree his prey, looking at Jareth as he set the cup aside. A smirk curved his lips and he leaned his elbows onto his knees. “I’m not a damn idiot, Jareth. I’m aware you two are working together, and that she’s relaxing around you. I was more talking about you two huddling over books in the library two or three evenings a week, bickering with each other like old friends.”

Or lovers.

Jareth blinked as if that confused him and shook his head. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m helping her learn to control her powers. That’s it. As a result, we’re doing some studying together. That’s all it is. It’s not like she can tolerate being around me for more than work, anyways.”

“So, you admit that you wish she would spend more time around you.”

This time, Fenris noticed that the tips of his King’s ears were turning pink. In the man’s defense, whatever was going on in his head didn’t show on his face at al. Still, the tell-tale pinkness to them told Fenris more than he’d suspected. He lifted a brow, fighting the urge to grin at his monarch.

Was he getting a crush on Goblinskin?

“Don’t start chasing fantasies like that, Fenris. I’m well aware of who and what I am, as well as who and what she is. Those sorts of dreams have no place in my life.” Jareth set down his own tea, looking towards the open window, a weary expression on his face.

For now, Fenris allowed him to push that thought away. He heaved a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “I heard you nixed my idea regarding the engagement and announced a ball to choose a bride from one of the Courts.”

“It seemed like a logical choice. This way, I force the other courts into handling this, rather than letting them drop the whole of the problem in my lap. Besides, pretending that I’d chosen a girl from the Shadow Court when I’ve never met one would lead to questions. This way, at least, it pleases them that I appear to be at least _looking_ for a queen from one of their courts. Regardless of how untrue that actually is.”

“Fair enough,” he said, nodding. “How are you going to explain Marcas’s presence to her?”

Jareth went silent for a long moment. “I hadn’t quite figured that out, yet. She’ll retreat, again, when I do. But I can’t just wait until the damn party. I swear, sometimes, I see the spine I remember from when -” He stopped himself and Fenris knew why. Jareth had gone through pains to pretend he didn’t know who Goblinskin really was. He was walking a razor wire, in large part to protect the girl.

What did surprise him, however, was the yearning behind his eyes.

“I’m not certain it helps, but she _is_ getting better.” Fenris didn’t think Jareth was ready to hear that the contact with him - the bickering with one another over books - was probably part of why. Even though he and Olivia could help her accept what had been done to her, and that she could move past it, this was different. Jareth was someone from her past who she had fought before, could safely pit herself against and win - and she knew she would come out of it unscathed.

Once again, he decided that bringing her here was the right choice.

“She told me how she was brought here by him. Not what happened since then, in the Shadow Court, but even that much from her is a victory,” Jareth said, his voice quiet and pensive. He remained silent for a moment, and then a quiet huff escaped him and his lips twisted into something between a grimace and a grin. “She called me a prick.”

Fenris felt a strange tickle in his throat and tried to swallow it back down. Damn thing felt like a laugh. He tightened his lips to keep from grinning and shrugged. “In her defense, Jareth, you _are_ a prick.”

The king’s lips finally settled into a grin and Fenris felt his own answer, curving into one that matched before Jareth snorted. That set them both off and they both tilted forward laughing. It felt good to laugh so openly. Before coming here, he’d never been able to do that. Most people who immigrated to this court and kingdom were of similar situations.

It took a moment before they regained control, and Jareth spoke again. “Prick or not, I gave her the push she needed to not give up on learning how to control these powers before she did something catastrophic out of instinct, so I’ll call that a win.”

A thought struck Fenris as he was swallowing his own laughter and he leaned back, covering his mouth and considered his king. His expression was still amused, but there was resignation and sadness in the smile, in the hint of amusement in his eyes. The blush he’d seen on the man’s ears had indicated attraction. But this was different. Deeper.

It took effort to school his expression, because he dare not discuss what had occurred to him with his king, yet. He didn’t think the other man was ready to hear his suspicion. After a long moment, he shook himself and got to his feet, giving his king a short bow. “Thank you for the tea. I’d stay longer, but I still need to make sure my lover eats something.”

And I need to discuss these thoughts with someone who wouldn’t mentally implode over them, he thought, careful to keep that thought from showing on his face.

He must have done well enough, because Jareth gave him a nod and a smile. “Then I’ll make certain you both have a quiet lunch and I’ll see the two of you at dinner?”

“Olivia will be delighted,” he answered, feeling his lips pull into a smile as he nodded his agreement. He gave another short bow before leaving the office and heading straight to his lover’s workroom.

He found her cradling an obviously cold cup of tea between her hands and vacantly staring at a simmering potion as she leaned against the shelf nearest her worktable. He gave a quiet knock on the door to draw her attention, and she looked up, her gaze sharp, as if she expected a patient. When she saw him, her expression softened and he gave her a grin.

He could see from here that she hadn’t touched the lunch that had been brought to her, yet.

“Here to make me eat?” She asked, her tone amused and tired. He could see dark smudges around her eyes, from nights where she didn’t sleep enough because she was still being troubled by her own dreams.

“I thought we might have lunch together, yes,” he teased, and walked towards her, cupping her soft cheek. She leaned into the contact and smiled at him. “And Jareth invited both of us to dinner, so you’ll have to finish with work earlier than you’d like, tonight.”

She sighed, but a grudging smile curved her lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight and rested her head against his chest. When she pulled back from the hug, he guided her towards the chairs they usually ate at. He was thinking over how to discuss what he suspected about his king’s feelings for the girl, but he wasn’t certain how she’d take it.

“You’re deep in thought, love.”

Her voice drew him from his thoughts and he glanced towards her as she took several small sandwiches on a plate, and poured some fresh tea over the lukewarm cup she’d been drinking. He grinned a bit, brushing his fingers over the auburn hair that disobediently was trying to escape her braid. “I just came back from a conference with our king.”

She glanced at him, and her lips curved into the smirk that had first pulled at his interest. “I realize, since you come bearing an invitation to dinner.”

He nodded, and played with those loose strands, considering them as he turned over his thoughts. She didn’t rush him, which he’d always appreciated. Instead, she fidgeted with their tea and set a few sandwiches in front of him, too, then started dressing her own tea.

“Have you ever seen Jareth blush?”

The cube of sugar she’d been adding to her cup plopped in, sloshing tea over the side and he found her staring at him through wide eyes. That was answer enough.

“Me, either, before today,” he said and took over setting up the tea, since he’d had more time to consider the implications of that blush and the look he’d seen in his King’s eyes. “I did, today. The tips of his ears turn red. It’s the only sign of it.”

“And what did you say that caused such a reaction from him?” She asked, her tone bewildered Like him, she’d never really seen the king lose his head over anyone.

This was the trickier part. He glanced at her, setting the tea in front of her and straightened, lacing his hand through hers, brushing his fingers over the back of hers. “He mentioned that he knew Goblinskin could only tolerate being around him for work. I half-teased that he wished she wanted to spend time around him outside of work.”

She’d almost bobbed her cup, and sloshed the tea down the side. She took her hands from it, quickly mopping up the mess with the corner of the work-apron she wore. Then, she looked up at him, her eyes still wide with her surprise.

“You’re serious. Do you think -”

“That he is, for the first time in his life, developing a genuine romantic attraction? I’d almost guarantee it. I also know he’s one hundred percent certain that such ideas have no place in his life. I let it slide, for now, because he’s not ready to consider it and she’s not ready to entertain the idea, either.”

Thankfully.

Olivia sat back, her arms crossing under her chest as she mulled this over for a moment. Her lips pulled into something close to a frown and she bit her thumbnail in thought as she turned the idea over her head. “Perhaps that’s for the best, that neither is ready, yet. I would hate to see either of their hearts end up broken. And if he pushed her too hard or fast, that’s exactly what would happen. He’d frighten her and she’d run. I know she had mentioned having relationships with men in the Above, but Jareth -”

“Isn’t mortal boy, is a king, and a fae besides, and has a hell of a lot more intensity, even when he’s toning it down? I’m quite aware.” He pulled her against his side for the comfort of her body against his and ignored the food and tea for the moment. “She called him a prick, you know?”

Olivia looked up at him in silent shock for a moment, and then her head tilted back and the soft warmth of her laugh washed over him. He felt a smile of his own turn up his lips and he decided that for now, they could push these thoughts away, deciding to enjoy lunch with his lady, today.

They could worry about everything else, later.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

At first, Sarah didn’t know for certain if she was dreaming or if what she was experiencing was real. That had been happening a lot lately.

It felt like she was riding in her car, the memory of the car accident vague. She could remember that it had happened, had been terrible, but at the same time, it felt like it had been years ago rather than a few months. As she considered this, she remembered that she’d woken up that morning in her bed and she was on her way to work.

That was fine. She did that every morning, didn’t she? Except the morning that she took Toby for his first day of Kindergarten - the day of the accident. How long ago had that been?

She couldn’t remember. Part of her thought months, but at the same time, her mind told her years.

As she arrived at work, she was handed a stack of paperwork to do, and the top page had a perplexingly familiar scrawl on it. As she stared at it, her brain told her the handwriting was Jareth’s. But that wasn’t possible. The Goblin King wasn’t real. Was he? No, he couldn’t be. That was all just a dream. The first trip to the Underground and then again, the second, more violent trip. Dreams, that was all they were.

She found her desk and sat at it, starting to sort through the pile of paperwork, prioritizing the important parts.

“Williams, get in here!”

She looked up and saw her boss, leaning out the door to his office. Beyond him, she saw a man with an unsettlingly familiar face. Deja vu flooded her senses as she got to her feet, heading into his office. Once inside, he sat behind his desk and she looked towards the man sitting in one of the chairs in front of it.

“Have a seat, Williams.”

She didn’t want to have a seat next to that man. Something about him frightened her, made her skin crawl, and reminded her of the nightmares of the Underground.

“Introduce yourself, Williams.”

She looked at the man and found him looking at her with a grin that was sinister and terrifying. Fear choked her and she looked at her boss. “What is this about, sir? Have I done something wrong?”

“I told you to introduce yourself, Williams, now do it.”

_“Just knowing doesn’t give anyone power over you.”_

She looked back at the man who now looked furious. Recognition flooded her, along with memories, followed by nausea swelling inside of her. She backed towards the door, shaking her head. “No.”

“Girl, you _will_ give me your name, and you will do it, _NOW!_ ” The man stalked towards her - Marcas, her mind reminded her - and the office changed around them. The ever-twilight of the Shadow Court lighted the now stone room and she spun, finding herself back in her bedroom there. The door was gone, and she was trapped in the same room as Marcas, again.

No, she mentally struggled, fighting against what was happening. I need a door. I need out, let me out!

She didn’t say the words, but the door to the room cracked and she threw it open, running down the halls. She could hear the sounds of her accident swelling in her ears, making her run faster. As she rounded a corner, Marcas’s hand caught her by the throat, and she was slammed against the wall so hard it knocked the wind from her, and she felt her head crack against the stone.

“You _do_ have powers, don’t you, Champion…”

“No,” she wheezed, but she was more denying what was happening than what he’d said. Tears poured down her face and she clawed at his hand. His other hand jerked the skirts of her dress up and she felt him force himself between her thighs and a panicked scream escaped her. “ _NOT AGAIN! NO!!_ ”

Suddenly, she felt two sets of hands on her. One, Marcas’s, holding her against the wall as he forced her thighs open so he could do...that again. The other hands, however, were gentler. One seemed to be holding her mask secured, and the other was against her back and she could feel hard warmth against her chest. Still, she wasn’t certain which was the dream, so she struggled against both.

Then, a gentle voice met her ears and spoke a name Marcas couldn't have known.

“Goblinskin.”

She snapped out of the hallucination or dream or whatever it was and found herself clinging to the Goblin King, standing in a hallway in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. She jolted, realizing her hands were curled, like claws, into the soft linen of his shirt and one of his arms was around her. That warmth at her chest was his against hers. Panic rushed through her, but she couldn’t seem to release him or push him away.

“G-Goblin...King?” She asked, hating the fear and weakness in her voice.

“Are you yourself, again?” His response was close to her ear, still low and gentle.

What did that mean? “I...think so?”

His arms eased from around her and as the hand holding her mask released, she felt it slip a little bit. Her hands shot to it, holding it in place and she tightened the cords which held it on. He stepped back, but was still within arms reach. It occurred to her that he stayed close in case her legs gave out.

“Wh-what time is it?” She managed, looking away from him, trying to get her emotions under control before she did something stupid with them.

“Closing in on four in the morning. I was getting up for work and found you running the halls in your sleep. You seemed to be in a panic, and I was concerned you’d end up hurt.”

She swallowed hard, remembering the dream and as she realized what had happened in the dream, her legs abruptly turned to jelly and she started to sink to the floor. Before she could, his arm caught her around the waist again and she found herself hitched up against his chest. That queer feeling she’d been experiencing more and more often twisted in her chest and she shifted. Still, the end of the dream was too fresh for her to be okay with close contact, so she squirmed to put space between them. Every time she tried to put her weight on her own legs, they’d start to give out, again and she cursed them for betraying her.

He adjusted his grip and then scooped her off the floor, cradling against his chest and her mind ground to a halt. One of his arms was wrapped around her shoulder, the other under her knees. Carrying her like a princess. Shock stilled her movements and silenced her until she was finally set in a rough, wooden kitchen chair. She looked around and realized she’d mentally wandered off, again, and found them in the kitchen with Jareth crouched in front of her chair. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, his gaze intense, and then he stood and turned towards the cook who was looking at both of them like they’d grown second heads.

“Minifred,” he said, addressing the cook. “Hot chocolate for Goblinskin, now.”

The cook grumbled a bit, but started warming the milk for the drink and Jareth pulled out a chair until he sat close to her, dropping himself into it.

She stared at him, quaking from her fear and waiting for him to start asking her about the dream or why she was moving about while she was asleep. As if she knew why she was sleepwalking.

“Tonight, you’re using one of the sleeping potions. I know you don’t want to be reliant on them, but I don’t like how many of these nightmares you seem to be having. You need a proper night of rest.” His voice was uncompromising as he spoke.

She opened her mouth to object, but he lifted his hand in a request for silence.

“I’m not telling you to use them every night. However, this time you were up and walking around in your sleep. The Escher room isn’t a sealed area, and while I trust the Labyrinth to keep its occupants safe, there’s a risk of you wandering in and breaking your neck.” 

She lowered her head and after a moment nodded in agreement. They sat in complete silence for a long few moments, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room. Her mind wandered as she stared at nothing until the hot cocoa was set in front of her and she pulled it close, warming her hands with the ceramic.

The king’s voice, when he next spoke, was as gentle as when he’d pulled her from her nightmare. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked at him in surprise and wondered if she should, if she could discuss something like this with him. She opened her mouth to do that, when the memory of Marcas pressed between her thighs overwhelmed her and tears filled her eyes and started falling down her face. Her panic was silencing her, once again. This time, however, it was because she didn’t want to see pity or disgust on his face when he looked at her. She stared through him for a long moment, remembering the time it actually happened, cruel fists beating her, breaking bones, bruising skin, before he forced himself on her and -

She felt soft leather on her face, again, and jerked back to the present, again. Jareth’s eyes were on her face, and instead of pity, she saw understanding and acceptance. As if he saw the nightmares in her eyes and didn’t want to push them to the surface. Then, there was a flash of regret before he lowered his hand and his face. He pushed a hand through his hair and she heard a ragged breath leave him before he looked at her again. There was no smile on his face, just grim resignation.

“You don’t have to tell me, Goblinskin. Even I can see when pain is too great to share with another.”

“I don’t want pity,” she said, forcing the words out.

“I don’t feel pity. I feel concern, understanding, and acceptance. The only person I ever have the energy to pity is myself,” he said and she saw a humorless smile on his lips. She blinked, confusion filling her. He lifted his hand again, this time seeming to gauge her reaction before he brushed some of her hair over her ear. His fingers slid along her jaw to her chin, lifting her face so he was looking into her eyes again. The touch was so gentle it almost tickled her skin. “Take your time. No one is demanding that you tell them anything. Finish your cocoa and then I want you to go rest. You’ve been working too hard, lately.”

“But -”

“If you’re going to argue and are determined to work, it’s going to be desk work. I’m not sending you to Olivia or Hoggle to do physical labor after you almost collapsed in the hall. They certainly wouldn’t allow you to if they knew about it.” He gave her a smile that had a bit of a sinister edge to it, but the amusement in his eyes softened that a little. “Should I tell them?”

“NO!”

“I thought not. So you get to pick. Rest in bed, or desk work with me,” he taunted and she looked at him for a long moment, feeling that strange twisting sensation in her chest, again.

“Desk work.”

He smiled and nodded in agreement, and now his smile didn’t seem sinister at all. More resigned, if anything. He didn’t say anything else, as he got to his feet and headed towards the kitchen entry. “Finish your drink and go get cleaned up, then. You have an hour before I come to find you, and if you’re with Olivia or Hoggle, I’ll just go ahead and make it a rest day.”

“Your majesty?” She said, before he disappeared into the dark hallway. He turned and looked at her, lifting a brow, and she didn’t have any idea what he was thinking, right then. “Thank you.”

His lips twisted, somewhere between a smile and a grimace, the look in his eyes complicated enough that she couldn’t understand it. Still, he nodded before he turned to go. Once the door was closed between them, she settled in and finished her cocoa, letting her mind drift away from her nightmare. When she finally stood, she found she didn’t feel as wobbly as before.

It was strange to her. She felt better for the comfort she received here - comfort without expectations. It wasn’t something she’d gotten often before. Back home, everyone expected some sort of answer after whatever drama unfolded around her. They couldn’t ever let her tell them in her own time. It was as if she owed them the reason as payment for their support. After this, when she returned home, she wasn’t certain how she was going to acclimate to being there, again. Especially if she carried this trauma with her, rather than it fading to nothing more than a dream like the first time had.

She walked back to her room and went into the side bath, staring at the deep tub for a long moment. She simultaneously didn't want to see or touch her own body to bathe and also wanted to scrub her skin until it bled to try to forget the feeling of Marcas’s hands hurting her. She’d learned from experience that neither of those helped.

Instead of taking a deep soak, she got a washcloth and cleaned herself up how she could, trying to ignore the way her hands were trembling in fear, again. Sometimes, when she concentrated on it, the tremors slowed to where they weren’t noticeable. It was always just temporary, and she knew that she’d always find them trembling again, later. Still, being able to force them to stop on occasion helped her think that maybe she wasn’t broken.

She took a deep breath, looking into the mirror as she slowly removed the mask to clean her face, before replacing it. As she did, she remembered coming out of the dream and finding Jareth’s hand holding the mask in place, again. 

She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to not think about that. After getting control of her breaths, again, she started hurrying to get dressed. A glance at the clock she’d been given, she found it was slightly after five and she dashed out of her bedroom, pausing to lock it behind her, trying to push away the burning question of why.

She remembered, again, that it wasn’t the first time he’d done that. She remembered her panic attack in the garden and remembered coming out of it with his hand on her shoulder and the other holding her mask in place. Hoggle had confirmed for her, when they were in the privacy of her room, that Jareth had made sure she didn’t knock her mask from her face. Like he was trying to help protect her identity, too.

Why would he need to do that?

She entered his office without knocking and realized a moment later, when his sharp gaze pinned her, how rude that was. “I - Sorry.”

He shook his head as if it didn’t matter to him and gestured towards the paperwork that sat on the low table they typically worked at when she worked with him. The top page made her tremble because it reminded her of her dream and she wondered for a moment if she shouldn’t have taken him up on the offer to just get some rest.

Still, she moved towards it and as she lifted the page, she found her hands trembling fiercely, hard enough that she could barely read the page.

He moved towards the table and she found a tea tray waiting with two cups and a light meal of sliced fruit and toast. As he sat, she did, looking at the page for a long moment.

“I dreamed I was home. Sort of.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide, as if he was surprised that she’d spoken about it.

“It looked like home and felt like home, until the end. I was at my job - secretarial work for a business - and I was called in to my boss’s office. That’s when it changed. Marcas was there, and I was being commanded to introduce myself to him. To say my name.”

Jareth straightened a bit, his lips pulling into a frown. After a moment, he put his hand over his mouth, glancing away from her, shadows in his eyes. “I’ll check and see if he managed to breach my defenses and sneak into your dreams. If he has, I’ll put an immediate stop to that, Goblinskin. I promise.”

She felt something like a rubber band snapping against skin and looked at him, startled. When his eyes met hers, she nodded. It took her a moment to realize what it was she’d felt. The magic of his promise binding them. She struggled for a moment, trying to think of how much she could say without slipping back into panic.

“It was like he was really there. I could...I could _feel_ him.”

Jareth reached towards her and took the paper from her hands. He set it aside and his hands wrapped around hers a moment later. He looked at her for a long moment, keeping her hands in his own. She stared down at them for a long moment and then looked at him. For a moment, she thought she was going to pull away from him and from his expression, he expected that, too. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to accept the comfort he was offering, wrapping her fingers over his, and biting her lower lip.

“Did you tell him your name? In the dream?”

“No, I remembered what you told me,” she said and lifted her eyes to look at him. He seemed to preen a little bit at that, straightening up and looking very pleased with himself. Then, he glanced away and when he looked back, the pleasure in his expression was dampened down.

“Good.”

She looked at him for a long moment, over their hands and after, she forced the question in her throat out of her mouth. “You held my mask on, so it wouldn’t fall off. Why?”

He looked at their hands, his thumbs brushing over the backs of them. “Because, that mask helps you feel safe. From me, from the world, whatever. If you came out of that dream without it, you’d panic worse than you already did. If that thing helps you feel safe and secure, here, then I want you to have that.”

The softness in his voice caused that strange twist in her chest, again and she squeezed her hands before finally pulling her own from them. She sat up straight, looking at him for a long moment, measuring his honesty. He looked up at her, his own expression as complicated as she felt. So rather than asking anything else, she let herself smile and nodded in acceptance. “Then thank you, again.”


End file.
